My only regrets from last night are a few ill-advised sleazy text messages and the fact that I spilled a taco on my white jeans on the taxi ride home.
Also I guess technically speaking, fashion-wise, I shouldn't have even WORN those fucking pants last night, since it's Autumn and all. So make that three things I regret.
Nothing else though. I don't regret getting free champagne all night, cause everyone loves the door girl. And I don't regret lingering over the tattooed hands of cute hipster boys as I took their money. And I don't regret the awesome fucking bass-heavy rap throwbacks we listened to all night long. And I definitely don't regret slipping away to the little counting area and sifting through all of that dough.
It's a dirty job, but infinitely satisfying because the smell and texture of money is like catnip to me. I get high and kind of hypnotize myself, counting everything and putting it in rubber bands and writing stuff down. It's a ritual that brings in all of my senses and I love that. I love almost anything like that.
I've wanted a horse for like, forever. But more than a horse I want a tack room, and the smells and sounds that go with all of that heavy duty leather.
I'm checking work email and it looks like I have a loooong day ahead of me tomorrow. So I'm working on a jacket that's been scaring me away in the past and preparing for that, today.
Plus watching more cartoons.
No comments:
Post a Comment