The day started with...

The day started with grogginess. And no sleep, yet again. There was a drunken brawl at the Pub where I work so we all know I was the one who had to stay back and clean up the mess those foolish idiots made. Scran & Scullies has been ours since my Da moved the family here from Scotland, but it feels so much older. All the old Scots in town are very familiar with our Pub. (Secretly I think they all stick around for my AMAZING cooking rather then each other's company, the grumpy old farts). I have an apartment at The Meridian but a lot of the time I end up sleeping in the loft above the Pub due to my late and stressful nights here. Its a wonder a person can get any sleep up here at all on this brick of a mattress. Getting out of bed and downstairs was a task in itself this morning, but someone had to do it and that someone was myself. Walking down the stairs the floor shines from my thorough scrub last night, as well as the tables and the bar counter. Seeing my hard work is satisfying to me, until my older brother Callum dumps the first load of kegs onto the floor in front of the bar counter. Both of us work the bar but I am mostly in the kitchen cooking and waiting tables to get the orders from our customers.
     "Artis, can you help get the food orders?" he asks in his sweet voice. Of course I have to do it because I am the one who uses it but still, it tends to get on my nerve just a bit. Those crates tend to get heavy! Callum has complained to Da about getting more help but he always says "Callum, this is a family run business, and we are the family. You do your share and the rest of us will too." I can see where he comes from but at the same time he needs to stop being such an old, stern Scot and just let some little changes happen. His pig-headedness bothers me at times.