I'm supposed to be working.
I have a shitpile of fixed assets to retire before I can move forward with everything else on my audit to do list.
Instead, I'm attempting to get caught up on my blog roll. Because seriously? 299 unread posts?
I guess that's what happens when you virtually follow a bunch of writers around. They actually write stuff that then needs to be read. And the more days that pass during which I don't have time to read, the more entries get posted and the further behind I feel.
I had a quiet mini weep fest at the goth club last night.
It sounds so cliche...right out of a Smiths song, doesn't it?
Alas, that would be me Morrissey must have been singing about...and not in a good way.
When I'm tired - and I suppose this is likely true for nearly everyone - I lose all my ability to filter. Add gin to that equation and, well, I suspect (read remember) myself of saying and doing things last night that appall me today.
Amends will likely have to be made.
I hope everyone really likes cake.
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