It took until four in the morning, so I slept til noon. Pretty much my natural schedule, left to my own devices. There wasn’t a reason to feel guilty for it, because I’m doing my real job and working hard.

This afternoon there was brilliant sunshine and seventy degrees. So I did the outside things, which amount to

• being outside for the sake of being outside
• staring fixedly at the car and thinking about what needs doing to it–which is an oil change in about 800 more miles, and maybe a re-wrap of the fender liner if I’m feeling rich then
• re-salting anything the slightest bit green in the yard in compliance with the shithead landlord’s mandate, and feeling it’s the wrong thing to do
• dragging the catbox out onto the front concrete to clean it
• and finally running a bath and hopping back outside for a minute to trim back the beard without having to clean up bits of hair

Also virtuous, more or less. Plus the laundry is churning. Damn, boy.

Now there are three evenings remaining until I have to go back and do the unreal job. Three feels like a lot and that makes me happy. It’ll be a long stretch of weeks before I have more than that, of a weekend.

I counsel myself to March Forth.