One of many identical journals that Horace owns - full of prodigious note taking.

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What in the fuck do I do now?! What a shit hawks mess is this!
All I want is bloody peace to my work and no matter how much I try to, people keep getting the fuck in my way.

I've asked mipsy to make the necessary arrangements in the short term but it's hardly going to work forever! I'll need to think of a more permenant solution to this little problem.

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Jesus but they can talk - all they want to do is bitch and moan about their living quarters, even though I'd put ready money on the two of them living in a hovel with naught but a pot to piss in between them and they complain now to me about the quality of the wine Mipsey serves them at dinner.

I swear to Merlin I could be driven to murder yet, the dementors kiss would be preferable to any more of this mindless chattering.

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I always knew I was destined to disdain the working classes.

I swear to Merlin that it might be easier to simply kill them, chop them up and throw a few feet onto the shore but at least I will be done with them.

I was sure I heard somethign today while out. I think I might be being followed.

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There is something out there! They were rattling the doors again today and then suddenly they were gone. I think I might be running out of time to find a solution to my little problem.

Aside from the fact that my unexpected guests are taking up valuable real estate and are annoying the tits off me, but I think I'm about to head into some trouble if they continue to stick around. Just throwing them out apparently isn't a good option.

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There is problem with the weight distribution today, I think something is penetrating the ballast and polluting the contents. It's throwing off the entire stability model. I've never had a weak stomach, but it's causing the model to rise and the bringing my dinner with it!

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fuck.

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