Blood red or smokey grey the moon has stayed a consistent source of magic this month. That and the thick smell of wet earth and cut hay have made my drive home more bearable. Work is a continuous drain on any attempts I might make at having a soul. No, that's not entirely true. I do enjoy most of my co-workers as well as my customers, or at the very least I'm indiffrent. No, no, it's really the other ones, that small percentage of human beings who cannot help but make themselves as irratating as possible. It was and is their destiny to make the rest of us look better by being awful. And to remind what we might become if we let ourselves go unchecked. In a way, I'm grateful for their presence and how it makes everyone else around seem that much nicer.
(On a side note: I was very selfish this week and yelled at my mother and wouldn't give my little sister a ride home from camp.)
