The Cost of Excellence

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I know, with my terribly deep posts as of late, you are expecting me to spout into the inner desire to excel, blah, blah, blah.

Or not.

The cost of which I am speaking, is that of the fact I am young and niave and merrily screwing up payroll, for which I will have to pay my first born child. The cost of forgetting to mail people's checks, I will have to give a lifetime supply of cookies. The cost of reversing check numbers, back rubs for as long as I work here. The cost of not being quite as perfect as they thought I was, bearing someone a grandchild.

This letting people down thing is rather--well--costly.

Disclaimer: I never said I was perfect, they merely thought so. I am simply being their King Saul, letting them find out what they thought was so great, isn't so great. What a nice change to be on the other end of the spectrum.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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