It's noon, and I'm still sitting at Barbie's desk, my butt aching terribly, but with all the determination to finish reading the scroll that Gandalf gave me to analyze.
«Does he think I'm a Hobbit? Well, I am short, but that's not the point.»
I admit that reading this has taught me many things I didn't know, things they don't explain in detail at the university. But for the love of my eyes! This is too much for one midday. I'm slow at reading, I won't deny it, nor will I deny that I don't enjoy it much, but I do it because I must. It's just that imposing on myself to read something that could take me three days, doing it in a matter of hours, is what has frustrated me a bit.
«At least I have ten pages left until my torture ends.»
I prefer numbers, statistics, planning, and even marketi
