Wednesday night, meditative.

The Mavs winning the Finals is bringing the handsome men to my yard, and by "yard" I mean "job". I've been on the register for the past two days that I've worked and on both days I've seen quite a few attractive men come by, but they're all in the mid-to-late 30s/early 40s range. Sigh, where are the handsome, single guys who are within my age range?

Also, my feet are killing me. As much as I need the money, if The Job calls me tomorrow morning I might have to turn them down. Being on my feet in my department for six to eight hours isn't awesome, but being on my feet and just standing at the register feels like torture.