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Em

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[28 Feb 1979|05:10pm]
Ridiculously horrid day. Don't really want to talk about it, suffice to say one of my coworkers put his hand into the printing press. Voluntarily. Not only did it mean we were down a staffmember for the rest of the day, and we'd just gotten the first bulk order we've had in three months, but the machine obviously didn't take well to being turned into a meatgrinder because after we thought we'd finished getting all the little bits of bone out of it and turned it back on, it broke down. There are not enough obscene words to express how I feel about this. My boss apparently blames me, probably because I'm the only person in the room who can string a sentence together and isn't some sort of serial killer, and you have no idea how lovely it is to hear that your superior feels you should be looking after your coworkers. I'm not a babysitter, and it is certainly not my fault Skull ended up at St. Mungos; in fact, thanks to some of the healing charms Caradoc has taught me, I probably saved his life! I'm getting worked up again now, I should stop thinking about it. I still have my job, but I haven't worked out if that's a pro or a fucking con yet.

See you in ten, Fletcher.
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[18 Feb 1979|04:54am]
Valentines Day was amazing. AMAZING. I love you Caradoc and I know sometimes I don't say it enough and I go and do stupid thing but you're there for me anyway and it means so much for me that I know you'll always be there because you're a sweet boy. I know it's sappy and I bet you fucks are rolling your eyes right now ESPECIALLY YOU FLETCHER I CAN SEE YOU YOU KNOW but it's true because Caradoc is an absolute sweetheart and I can't believe it took us this long to realise but we're together now so that's all right. I missed out on Potter's party which is a shame but also not because that Pettigrew person was there and he broke Sybs teacups so I am sworn and bound to hate him but otherwise it would have been nice but the stuff Caradoc did was much nicer. Taking me out, that is, nothing like that you perverts - well, something like that but I'm not going to talk about that on the journal because I'm a LADY. Stop fucking laughing fletcher or i'll knife you okay i have to go now feeling a little funny probably but i have another drag i love you all.
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[04 Feb 1979|09:29am]
I don't want to go to work... I can't feel the tips of my fingers. I'm declaring light illegal. Where'd the sodding painkillers get to? Whatever that was, Dung, it was ace, and took me right through to the Big Bash (happy birthday Lils! happy birthday Fabs! can't remember if I said it last night.)

Speaking of, can someone fill me in on the last bit or so? Last thing I remember is yelling at that cuntbag whose name I can't remember as Dung tried to drink her under the table. And then much later (or maybe only a few seconds after, I'm a bit foggy) Cara holding my hair back as I was sick in... well, I hope it was the wc, otherwise I might be in a speck of trouble.

Aghhh mum's BAKING it's way too early to be cooking anything let alone, I don't know, smells kinda like banana cake and it's wafted up the stairs and right into my room, making me feel sick to my stomach. Bugger this for a game of soldiers, definitely going to owl in. So if you have a spare mo I'll be here all day, lolling around in my pyjamas, drop on in! (Dearborn, I'm looking at you.) Told mum they gave me the day off. Time to do the dance of VICTORY!

Or maybe nausea. Gimme a sec for the paracetamol to kick in.
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