Ok, so I have not continued my story. Fine then. I will just have to make up for it now (if I can remember everything that went on). Ah yes, Sunday.

Sunday morning I wake up a 9 so that I can go work at CompUSA as a favor for my sales manager whom had asked me to come in early for the sales meeting. I was told that the general manager wanted more people there and that I should probably go to see what he had to say. I say sure, being the gullible human that I am. The store does not open until 12, so we spend the 2 hours talking about normal things that I hear everyday from the managers. It was quite frankly a bunch of bullshit. There was no reason for me to be there that early, and we only had 4 people scheduled for the entire day, on Sunday, the busiest day of the week *proceeds to hammer himself in the head* so I am there until 6:30 that night. I did do quite a few sales, but I was extremely tired from the night before, and not in a great mood because I had to come in so early, on a favor.

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I’ve been in meetings all morning. My brain is now officially fried and it’s not lunch yet. *repeats to self* This is not indicative of the rest of my week….

I’m going to write about my weekend, as it was a fun weekend with stories to write about. But, I also wanted to write about something that happened to me on Thursday night. I got out of class at my usual 6:50pm Thursday and didn’t want to go straight home. I had to pick Sean’s laptop up so that I could prep it with a program so that I could do homework on the weekend. That meant a trip to CompUSA.

On my way, I decided to stop by Barnes and Noble and pick up a much needed macchiato. While I was in line for my coffee, new Real Simple magazine in hand, someone called out my name. I turned around searching the small crowd (There was poetry reading gonig on that night). A girl waved her hand at me. It was Bridget, one of my old coworkers from HiWAAY. I waved back and went to talk to her for a few minutes. We caught up about who’s doing what nowadays. She left HiWAAY right after I did, so our lives really had diverged. Right before I parted, she mentioned that the only way she recognized me was my hair. “Your red hair always did make you unforgettable.” Heh. She had known me, of course, before my hair had ever been completely red and she knew the reasons why I had dyed it in the first place. We parted ways, but for the rest of the night, I kind of grinned at the fact that somebody actually remembered me for the way I looked rather than the way I acted or talked.