The Weekend

I spent a good majority of my time in bed yesterday. It wasn't any sort of discernible illness, nor was it depression. I just did...not...want...to move. All that said, I'm about two days behind on my song-by-song for The Bald One and I haven't proofed a thing of my own in a couple of days.

Seriously, I need to get my arse in gear. Bleeeeghhh...

Isolating

I've removed AIM from my computer. You might reach me at Skype. Best way is good-old-fashioned "LOVE" letter. Those who know me well have all my contact points. You also reach me on FaceBook. I swore I'd never use it, but it's really come in handy (this is a big nudge to paisleydaze). I am NOT giving up this journal. I had well over 8000 pages written when I wen in for my surgery in 2004. Doubling that amount would not come as a surprise to me. That is too much work to simply just abandon. I may the only soul left here, but I'll sure to turn out the lights when it's time to shut down the space station.