I don’t know where the two days vanished, except I do.

There was a big order fulfilled expeditiously.

There was maintenance, on a couple of the leftover relationships.

It was trash day and this house is really, really clean now, and not just clean but … the … organizational structure is lookin’ mighty purty too.

I haven’t been able to re-establish a normal circadian rhythm but it’s hard to complain about that, because the proximate cause is just not needing to sleep even after sixteen, eighteen, twenty hours have gone by. Like I try but just can’t and so I get up again.

I’ve been fussed about money more than usual. Not in the moment or the day to day, but come June my income takes a 25% chop, or more depending on how the sausage grinds out. The belt is pulled tight, for that reason but for other reasons too–I am planning strategically, on how to be real poor and real sane because of it. Specifically. I know that’s vague, but it wouldn’t be, if you’d a-been reading the whitespace between every line.

I’ve got three months to build a cope, conceptually and in reified meatspace. Or, you know, to get a fucking job, but that seems less and less like what I want to do with the ever-shorter moments of consciousness still remaining in the share I’ve been so miraculously granted, here on planet blue.