Awkward

In fifteen minutes, I will be in bed. This day has been one of those which must just be gotten through. I’ve been walking uphill ever since I got up this morning, and nothing has gotten me out of this state of mind which I find myself. Men can be so irritating.

I hate feeling like a fifteen year old girl.

Bez offered to shoot the Cheese Man for me, but as tempting an offer as that was, I felt it was probably in her best interests to remain on this side of prison bars. A pretty girl like her wouldn’t last long in the joint.

How can I live with this? I’m going to have to find somewhere else to buy my cheese now! I certainly can’t go into his shop again. It would be far too awkward. Probably it would only be awkward for me, and not for him, which would make it even more awkward as a result. He would sell me gouda without thinking twice about it, while my insides would be a spinning Tilt-a-Whirl of emotional madness.

Perhaps I should just let Bez shoot him. Certainly someone else would take over his shop, and I could go back to my normal cheese-buying habits without being concerned about any potential awkwardness.

I am so irritated by this that I can’t even think of another word to use other than “awkward.”

Uncomfortable? Squirmy? Torturous?

Awkward.

Stupid Cheese Man.