Holy shit. Shit shit shit. Holy shit.
Sarah just called me. She didn’t text or email. She called. And because of everything going on with work I answered the phone without looking at the number.
She wants to meet me for lunch tomorrow. She and Pete have been invited to Posh’s going away party, and she thought we should meet and talk it out before bumping into each other at the party.
See this is where she’s a sneaky cow. If she’d emailed or texted, I could have come up with an excuse and said I was too busy with work. Or, in an email or text, I could have been totally bitchy.
But on the phone I lose all my nerve. I was too flustered to think of an excuse, and I’m not good at bitching people out in person. That’s something that shines in my writing.
I responded with an ‘okay’ before I realised what he said. She named the time and the place. Tomorrow. One o’clock. My cafe. Damn it. She knows that’s my cafe. She better not ruin it with a memory of meeting her there.
I so can’t be arsed with this.
Right. I just needed to have a bit of a rant. Back to work. I’ll fill you all in on the ‘publication sale-film rights sale-publicaiton sale’, or the PFP, later on in the day when I get a chance.