Ah. Flowers delivered at work: twice.
Desired particle size distribution achieved: once.
Now, if it would only just hurry the hell up and be five, so I could go home, maybe I would not be the grumpiest birthday girl in the neighborhood. Stupid people will not stop existing just to suit me. I suppose someday I’ll have some sort of strategy other than just rolling my eyes and then realizing they can, like, see that I condescend. Oops. Fuck it, it’s my birthday. Be as stupid as you want to be, I’ll deal.