27
I did it.
I wrote the stupid tablets, all according to father's instructions, lit the candles, prepared the food (I had to bake the bread myself; how stupid is that? It took a bit of trial and error, but I figured it out eventually).
Jack didn't understand my sudden enthusiasm for baking, but didn't comment.
Maybe he figured I was de-stressing, beating the dough after the Major beat me.
That felt a little bit good, I must admit.
I was now staring at the tablets, sitting at the center of my bedroom.
It was Saturday, and I didn't have to go to work.
Joe liked to sleep in, so I wouldn't start working with him until after lunchtime (he should change his habits here, but I guess it's too hard for him; it's not like he doesn't work hard, he just prefers to work at night. And with the
