#43 – Marie’s Diary January 21st, 2011

Dear Diary,

They’ve given me one week.  That’s it, Diary, one week and I’m canned.  I don’t understand who would have done such a terrible thing?  All of that hard work that Jim put into his wonderful machine is gone.

Jim won’t return my calls.  He must be devastated.  Poor thing.  I shouldn’t have treated him so poorly.  So what if he likes the way I smell enough to stalk me?  There are worse qualities to find in a man.  Take Jeff, for example.  Now he is the true creep here, not Jim.  Jim is even kind of sweet in his own weird way.

He takes care of his mother.  That’s gotta be worth something.  He took care of my mother when I couldn’t.  So what if he was performing sniff tests on her while she was lying there totally unconscious and poorly supervised by the nursing home staff.

Perhaps it’s more than just smells for him.  Maybe he cares for me? He cared enough for me to let me use his machine.  What is that, Diary?  How do I feel about Jim?  I don’t know.  I just don’t know.  I’ve never met anyone quite like him.  I don’t really know what to make of a man who spends all of his time smelling things in his mother’s basement.

Perhaps I’d better just go ahead and pack up at work.  There’s no way I’m going to come up with a better idea than the Smellasizer.

Oh, there you are Toonces.  It looks like it’s going to be the cheap cat food soon.  Sorry, sweet kitty, I know you love your Fancy Feast.

Defeated,

Marie

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