Dear Diary, Hello again. I couldn’t decide if I was going to write an entry last week or not. Couldn’t make up my mind. There was so much going on, and by the time I got around to making my mind up, the whole doggone thing had been taken out of my hands. Guess I’m what ya might wanna call a waffler, or a procrastinator, or sumthun’ like that. Life keeps passing me by.
Dear Diary, Just a short note to say Merry Xmas, and thanks for being here for me this past year.
And speaking of thank-you’s, did you see that advertisement telling us that “Nova Scotia health care workers have been through a lot lately...”
Oh, dear. I hope they’re going to be OK. I hope it’s nothing serious.
Dear Diary, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is the group just broke up. The good news is I still get to eat for free and never spend any of my own money.
Dear Diary, Sorry ain’t written in a spell. Been away. Never shoulda taken time off. As soon as I left the arse fell outta her.
See, got this lady friend Diana, who’s ‘sposed to be - ‘sposed to be - fillin’ in for me when I’m away from the group.
But the minute I’m out the door, one of the prisoners from the local jail walks outta his door.
Dear Diary, the new job continues great guns. Did I tell you I have this assistant? Her name is Floral, or something like that. I like her. She’s my pressed secretary, which means any time I need my shirt pressed I just take it off in front of my new friend Floral and she will iron it for me, right there on the spot. I don’t know where she hides her ironing board.
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