ACCOZZAGLIA

There’s still I have to do this week. In fact, there’s a shitload I have to do this week. And I’m not looking forward to all of it.

However, I went through bills and statements and set up neat, little stacks to help me pore through this stuff when I bring in some cheddar.

I also threw away a lot of crap I didn’t need, either.

I transcribed a three year-old journal handwritten journal entry I recently found in my mothballed car a couple of weeks ago. I might add a couple of other journal entries for posterity.

I took care of some client contacts and some networking for some
more personal matters.

I set up an appointment to tour a skool (and look at another) when I head east later this month.

“It’s oNly just three letters long.
It’s onlY just three letters long.
It’s only jUst three letters long.”

“But it’s gonna take a lot of money, a whole lotta precious money, patience and time to do it right.”

* * *

One of the four people who has or wants to do impure things with me — the mono one for those interested, *feh* — phoned and invited me to an industrial night tonight. Ummmm no. I hate post-1991 industrial, and *when* are we gonna hang out in a place other than a noisy nightclub, like hello? This is still open to negotiation.

Problem is, it’s sticky and lizard-like in my flat, and so I feel like I’m operating on half-speed. Ick. And this kind of weather makes me lose my appetite big-time.

Still more to do, but a cool bath is beckoning me, so.

Nonetheless, I hate anxiety from all things money- and professional-related. It’s my biggest cross to bear these days.

How mundane. It’s almost an improvement of sorts. I haven’t been mundane in years.