Of Bees and Butterflies

I only did 20 boxes yesterday. I had a hiccup with the number of parts. I’m still not 100% on the whole Add Material to ShopVue thing. Other than that, I don’t know why only 20. Still better than the previous week, though. I hope Mike sees it the same way.

Is is just me, or is Ray kinda jacked? It must be all the heavy lifting. I wonder how long it takes to get muscular arms, and exactly what you have to do. You know, obviously still feminine arms for me. Toned, I guess.

They’re moving MP (that’s Sherrie and me, and don’t ask me what MP stands for, I still don’t know) upstairs. Upstairs is supposed to be wonderful, except that bees get stuck in the air vents, and then angrily attack you when they get out. I’m afraid of bees, I’ve never really been stung, so I’m not sure how this is going to play out.

I say “never really,” because one time I was stung a little bit through a paper towel, but there was no stinger in my finger. I just felt a sting.

Anyway, I wonder how they’ll get our stuff up to us. And who will bring it. They’ve been talking about it since February, which makes it feel like it’s never going to happen at this point. I kinda hope it doesn’t. I like things the way they are. Also, the bees ☹️

One time, someone at work asked me what my biggest fear was. I think she was expecting snakes or rats. Without missing a beat I said, “Rejection.”

It’s true, though. More than bees. More than even bats. I’m afraid of rejection. That’s probably why I didn’t have very many relationships. Although isn’t it the boy who’s supposed to do all the pursuing and asking out? Don’t they love the chase?

In high school, people used to say it was because I wasn’t as approachable as, say, my friend Katey, who was the quintessential social butterfly. I often appeared unhappy, aloof, and closed-off. Maybe.

In college, I dressed to kill, had a nice body, but little to nothing really happened until midway through junior year, when I met Derek. And that was through a mutual friend. Had that friend not been there, would he have talked to me?

I worked with a guy a few years ahead of me who swore up and down he recognized me from college. Well, why didn’t you talk to me back then?

It’s weird to think about. I don’t really want to think about it, anymore. It’s giving me a headache.

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