I’m working very hard for stupid hours and not getting paid for it. I’m not sure where my job is going, but it’s driving there pretty fast and the only room for me is if I squeeze into the boot. Which is full of socks, for some reason.
I have no time to work on my NaNoWriMo entry because any free time I have is spent looking for or quoting for the bits of contract work I’m hoping will help me to avoid starvation.
Not to mention the other projects I’d like to spend time on: Jukebox and Binky’s Big Adventure, among others.
Duality is misbehaving. This displeases me.
I accidentally bit my tongue quite badly (as in: spitting out heaps of blood) last night, and it hurts a lot and I can’t talk properly today, which is always a disadvantage when one had to run a training session in content management. Drinking is painful. I haven’t dared try eating yet.
As a result of all of the above, I’m remarkably stressed and keep snapping at people. If you’re among the snapees (yes, it’s a word – because I said so, that’s why), I apologise.
We can’t afford to come up to Jon’s bonfire.
I still haven’t got around to arranging stuff I need to for the Abnib Real Ale Ramble, and we really need to send the forms and things off this weekend.
Contract work is looking promising: if I get everything I’m quoting for I’ll actually earn almost double this month than I would for my “day job”. That said, the odds of getting everything is pretty damn low.
I’m feeling carelessly optimistic about a particular chunk of work that might become available to me next Wednesday.
Claire’s being supportive (both emotionally and financially) and useful. And, on a probably-unrelated note, sex is particularly fantastic of late.
So; a little bit of disbalance in the lists, but I’m hoping I can clear that up next week. Otherwise, it’ll be the corned-beef-on-toast-week all over again.