Hello, homo sapiens, and my fellow not-so-homo sapiens! How are y’all doin’? Well, it’s my turn to report. I was forced by my fellow cohorts in crime to get to thinking about what to write next. So I thought, “What have I got going on in my life? Nothing, self, nothing!” But that’s not true. I gots me a job!
I work for my Uncle John. Of course we’re not actually related; he was deemed my uncle by the ancient customs of the “Bro Code.” I work for him painting game pieces. The game pieces I paint are 10 millimeter-scaled war figurines, and they have to be historically accurate and extremely detailed. These game pieces are used to play “war games,” and although I would like to explain what, exactly “war games” are, all I really know is that there are rules, dice, a board (which is usually several tables large), and figurines. And I think that I do an okay job on them; it does take me forever to paint them though. This sucks because I get paid by the figurine; so some days I make $40 and others I make about $8.
The reason I had to get this job is because, for a seventeen-year-old girl, I have really bad legs. “Oh no! What’s wrong with your legs Maddie?” you ask. Well, it all started when I was thirteen, and I started having pain in my knees. The pain slowly got worse and worse, for about a year until I became a high school freshman. My mom ended up taking me to the doctor, and a couple misdiagnoses later it was decided that I had terrible maul alignment in my legs. That means that my femur twists one way and my shin bone twists the opposite direction (if ever there was a time for One Direction, that would be it); and it was scaring my cartilage away. Long-story-short, I had my first surgery at fifteen and a couple ones after that due to a relapse.
Two whole years later I’m still in physical therapy and my two friends have this plan to go live abroad in England. It sounded cool, and I didn’t have a single clue as to what to do with my future, so I hopped on board. Of course, this meant that I needed a job, and I was still pretty messed up from all the physical trauma, so my dad talked to my Uncle John, and that’s how I got my job.
So now that I have my job I’m of course saving all the money that I can. My plan is to save as much as I possibly can. And I’m trying to get my mom to come with me to the bank so that I can open a savings account, because I have a feeling that squirreling away hundreds of dollars in your books on your book shelf is a bad idea.
Till I write to you next, my dears,