All of these responses were positive and supportive. I felt it was important for me to do more but, the question became, do what? I can write articles... I can complain and whine about the way our governmental leaders ignore the wishes and desires of a vast majority of the taxpayers. I could propose large quantities of possible solutions but so what? What good am I doing? Who's listening? How much effect am I having? Unfortunately, the answer to that and other similar questions is nothing. No. No wonder he was so rich. Rich enough to have been able to afford me."Well, some of the guys at work have been complaining about the planned long hours for this upcoming holiday season. The warehouse crew in particular is disgruntled. And I just can't have that."Where was he going with this? Did he, like, want me doing paperwork for him today?"I promised them bigger bonuses, but they still seem unhappy. Seems with recent layoffs they're on edge. You know, I started in the warehouse before. "So how did your visit go with Teresa?" asked the bitch."Just fuckin marvelous! We talked, I set up a return appointment and shewants me to return all femmed up." Are you ok with going in to see her dressed?" Sure but, I know you aren't crazy over the idea of seeing me in drag. Icould use your help checking me over before I make a public appearance.I think I'm pretty good but I would appreciate your suggestions if anyare needed"I don't like dressing casual like most women do nowadays. I wanted. Which was probably why I even considered the Deacon’s next proposition.“So are you bored with the middle class house wives and their middle class children yet?” Deacon asked over our next Friday breakfast.“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked instead of answering his question.“I mean, you are spending all this time picking up nickles and dimes working third class jobs for middle class clients,” he said. “I know you have to be bored with the whole thing.”“You might be, but I’m not bored.