Sunday, March 12, 2006

So, I got the job. I start in three weeks at a cafe in Salford (I think that's what the town is called). It's a little inconvinient to get to, but I'll give it a try. It can't be any worse than driving to Richmond every. single. day.

What I'm concerned about is that I need to buy a pair of dark denim jeans. I hate jean shopping. It takes me forever to find a nice pair, and when I do they're the most expensive pair in the shop. Not to mention that I really don't have the money to buy clothes. I also need to find black shirts - I have all of two in my wardrobe.

And lastly, I have no one to go shopping with. I doubt that Chris wants to run all over Manchester to help me find a nice, inexpensive, and flattering pair of jeans. He has physics to do. And if I keep eating ice cream at this rate I'll need to buy more than one pair, because none of my pants will fit.

Why do all British houses contain sweet things? Or, more importantly, where has all my self control gone? Jan has got me craving desert after every meal. Joy has got me wanting coffee and/or hot chocolate all the time. And Chris has got me constantly thinking about chocolate. I'm going to be thirty pounds heavier when I return.

I need to get to a gym.

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