Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
The shit still keeps me up at night. If I am honest with myself, it probably always will. It’s why no one ever sleeps with me. The nightmares are vivid and my subconscious will react in accordance.
Unfortunately, Kitty learned that the hard way. Solid fuck that woman gives as good as she gets, but waking up to me choking her while telling her I planned to watch the life drain from her eyes didn’t leave her feeling so great about giving me anything ever again.
She’s cool about it considering. She says she doesn’t blame me. She’s even offered up her pussy for another round. I can’t do it though.
I learned a hard lesson that night, one I will carry with me to the end of time.
Some people, men like me, need to be alone. It simply is how it’s meant to be. Not everyone gets to have love, marriage, kids, and the dream.
Fuck for fuck’s sake because we all need release, but do not share the bed outside the time it takes to bust a nut, and never fall asleep with anyone near.
In fact, I take it so serious that when my body screams at me the fatigue needs to win, I lock myself in my bedroom with three individual locks, one of which is a combination so that I can’t sleep walk and hurt anyone else around me.
I know the man I am.
I know every mistake I have made.
I know every kill I’ve made.
I know every hurt I’ve caused.
Which is why I know, I will never have love again.
Not that I deserve that either.
Had what I thought was love. Had what I thought was family. Learned the hard way, nothing is ever what it seems, especially not women and love.
War is pain.
Love is pain.
Loyalty carries you through.
CHAPTER 3
Michele
This is going to be one long day. Monday’s typically are, but today is double fold. I fell behind on Friday and didn’t get everything prepped for this week.
My standing order came in Friday, dropped in from the wholesale supplier. It is more cost effective to buy the flowers in bulk boxes, which is what I try to do. Hence, my delivery driver only had to drop the boxes and leave on Friday. I had a wedding scheduled Saturday with a full arch set up. Knowing I had to get all of the reception arrangements done along with the bridal party stuff, I focused on designing Friday rather than processing the flower shipment. I told myself I would get to it. But alas, that was a lie. Saturday after a day outside setting up the arch on site, well, in this Alabama heat, I was wiped out. Hence why the flower boxes I put in my walk-in cooler are still in the boxes they came in. Typically, I would have emptied them into buckets of water at least. I can only hope I don’t regret this decision. Flowers do need water to continue living.
I don’t ever work on Sunday’s. If there is a funeral I will make it and deliver to the funeral home on Saturday. I will not work on Sunday’s. It’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way. Early in opening my shop, I took every order and worked for every call. Quickly the burn out hit and hit hard. In order to be effective for each and every client, I have learned to protect my Sunday’s. I will work Saturday’s for events and funerals, but I don’t accept walk-in or delivery orders for homes like I do Monday through Friday. This keeps things relatively under control giving me another day off on Saturday’s or a partial day if I’m setting up an event.
One thing about having my own business, I’m married to it. The commitment level to keep things afloat is more than any relationship. If anyone ever considers being an entrepreneur, go into eyes wide open, it’s going to be exhausting, yet rewarding. Time is never something anyone has in abundance and owning my business makes that very clear each and every day.
Since I didn’t get to process the flowers Friday, Saturday, and definitely not Sunday, I came in early today. Filling the five gallon buckets with warm water, flower preservatives, and then setting it beside the cutter, I get to work. Box after box, I open them, take out the bundles of flowers, cut each stem, strip the extra greenery, wire the heads for roses, carnations, and de-thorn the roses. There is quite a bit of work behind the scenes long before a stem sees a vase. If people only knew, each and every stem is handled individually. One by one they are cut, set to drink so they can open, and then re-cut before being the flower included in a design. On the chance the bud doesn’t open to a blossom, then the stems have to be cut again and reprocessed until the flower can be used.