Work-Music.

I apologize about not getting back to business here - I wound up sticking around a big longer to slap a second coat onto the Storage Facility's epoxied floor. And then cooking dinner - I made Eggplant Parmesan, however I didn't get a picture. I cannot, for the life of me, find my old, high-quality, teeny, blue camera!

Or my serving dish for that matter. It kind of sucked. I served it with a bit of pasta, to account for that, and piled the eggplant atop it, in a small ramekin. Still sort of pretty, and giving that illusion of class, unless you know what a ramekin is for, and then you're like, "Why is a souffle or creme brulee not in there?"

Anyways, owwies. I'm hurtin'. 

You ever listen to Michael Gray's "The Weekend"? It's a great song, and I encourage you all to dig it. If you've ever worked a day in your life, or maybe even attended a public school? It's a song I know you'll relate to. Which is really like, awesome. I love it when I get a song. When the song hits, "I make it what I can. I try, I try, I'm shakin' up my plan"? I'm just like, "Nnff, sing it yo. I dig what you're puttin' down."

My neck's absolutely killing me. It's gotten to the point where I can no longer give it a crude popping to alleviate the agony that accrues into it while painting ceilings, or at other odd angles - instead, I just wake up and make Adventure Time noises. Or Regular Show noises - but exclusively Panicking Muscle-Man ones.

My knees are killing me, too. Prior to my work with Rudbeckia, I had never painted a floor. I've sanded and varnished hardwood floors. I've installed faux-wood floors. I've assisted in installing carpet. But it's not often that someone's like, "Ruin my floor with what you put on my walls!" I put on a coat of it. It was very, very thin and watery. Turns out that all the actual paint had settled at the bottom of the can, despite having been shaken. The mounted-roller is ideal for floors, but the small space isn't super ideal for mounted-rollers, and long story short, I wound up doing a lot of kneeling while applying one failed coat. A coat of actual paint to make up for it, and a second coat to make certain it were thick enough to be a respectable matte silver.It took like, twelve hours. That's more air-time on your knees than objectified women in a over-the-top music 

video.Or Vual.

Anyways, I've been writing (and reading) a lot about the Hierarchy of Angels, (Generally agreed to look something like this: Righteous Dead, Saints, Angelic Messengers, Archangels, Seraphim, Creator.) and the Demonic Pseudomonarchy, which is a whole bunch of very fascinating but at times frightening figures. They're structured somewhat by their...Well, it's hard to explain. I'd like to say "Power," but I don't know that that's entirely true. King Asmoday out-ranks, say, the quite adorable Prince Valac in title, and therefore holds seventy-two legions of the demonic as opposed to Valac's lesser thirty. However, Marchosias, who shares a rank with Shax, is arguably far more competent - Shax being known to be quite temperamental, a liar unless compelled otherwise, and to occasionally loose evil familiars - while Marchosias is both dutiful, issues competent familiars, and is honest.

Part of me wants to chalk that up to Marchoasias' want to return to heaven. It's really quite saddening, I imagine he's kind of like a lovely person who picked the wrong team in Angelic Kick-Ball.

Anyways. Fascinating stuff if you don't get too roped-into it. 

Valac and Gremory are my favorites. They make me want to be a cute angelic orphan, and ride a camel.

I've still not gotten paid, which is troubling. I plan to personally show up and claim the money today, as I was supposed to have it delivered yesterday and, despite attempts to contact her, my supervisor kind of left me hanging. I'm not taking it personally, but it is just under a month overdue and that kind of irks me. That's a long time to wait to be paid, and I don't exactly have an account brimming with wealth right now.

Awhile back, An called for assistance, and I wasn't able to do more than twiddle my thumbs and say, "That's unfortunate - I'm at work." I felt kind of bad. I hate turning people away when they ask for help. I just couldn't afford to buy food.

All things considered, though, I'm excited.