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The Dime
Lately, I've been getting drunk on a cup of wine. Yes, I said CUP. Not a glass, not a serving. A cheap white paper cup of wine that I pour myself at the end of nearly every bar shift at the Jeune Lune. Maybe it's the fact that I don't eat dinner on those days, maybe it's just a fading endurance to the drink. All I know is that I'm pretty gone right now, and pissed that my boyfriend can't WASH A SINGLE FUCKING DISH. He's worked a combined total of 6 hours in the past two days, and I've worked 19. For the love of all that's holy, just rinse out a thrice-damned bowl already!

I had something intelligent to say, but it's best saved for a more reflective time.