The inability to acquiesce to the simplest of requests is mind-boggling. If the people at Manchester Music Exchange don't got their act together soon I'm destined to fail my Grade 4 Viola Exam. Twice - twice -have they sent me the wrong music. The first time, perhaps, it was my fault but the second was inexcusable. Expecially since they paid no heed to the emphasis of the request.
But now I have a reason to complain angrily down a phone - always a joy. And there were will be extra emphasis this time on the composer. And a refund, I'm sure of that. Regardless, my music teacher will be furious.
I'm calm again, even if the daunting prospect of a near-due English project lurks mere hours away. My tranqiul state of mind seems to have sprang from nowhere; I'm sure anyone else in my situation would be livid.
I believe this post has served its purpose of procrastination grandly. If only mother would hurry eating her dinner, doesn't she know I have things to do?
After-thought - What is the point of blogging? I am near certain that few people (if anyone) read this things. I suppose it is just a modern and more high-tech version of a diary, except boys and girls alike keep them. Or perhaps I am using my blog wrong? Should I be advertising?
Yours,
The Comma Whore
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