New Year's in Key West.

I woke up in my medium-quality parking location, and felt alive and refreshed. I acquired minor supplies, and proceeded to the grassy gravel lot where cruise ships pass on their way toward Mallory Square. I lifted the curtains and opened my doors toward the water. A month. I will be spending a month here. That seems easy. Right now this is home.

I took out my camp stove and set it on my little folding yellow table. I took my dented little camping pot and poured in a puddle of oil. I dropped three eggs in the hot oil and stirred it with a plastic fork. I transferred breakfast to a cheap dish that works as a plate and a bowl. I cleaned everything with one paper towel while it was still warm. I seasoned the eggs, and cut an avocado. I had a handful of almonds on the side.

I spent the day riding a bicycle and paying some bills. My plan was to drop in on Duval Street later at night for a round of the old gawk and squawk.

I returned to my van for sunset and dinner snacking. I was super fucking relieved when a text message buzzed my phone.

My friend Eddie still lives here, and he invited me over to his boat. I'd been sending short messages in his direction - one per day on my way here. I was glad to see him pop up on my phone. Eddie's boat is his home, where he lives with his wife and son. He's docked on the gulf side. He works on another boat shuttling tourists out in the water. He shoots fish with a spear gun while he's out there. He catches stone crabs in some traps. I was impressed to see the size of the claws. He fried up a grouper, and I was happy to pick at it with a fork. This was all far better than what I had planned. I cannot state that enough.

More people arrived. The gathering was verging on a party. Before long, it made the grade. Maybe a dozen people were there, and half were under sixty. Everyone was cool as shit. I had rum punch, talked a little bit, and enjoyed the vantage point very much. A handful of people ate mushrooms. I was also offered drugs, but fuck it. I've tripped dozens of times, and I'm running low on epiphanies. I'm happier now to simply be around.

I left at nearly four in the morning. I was grinning heavily, and I was almost as tuned up as my bike. I cruised back to my van where you're not supposed to park. But nobody gets a ticket on New Year's. The law has both hands full tonight.

Successful arrival in Key West.

I woke up in a parking lot speckled with palm trees. I wanted to hit the gas, but thought it prudent to stock up on certain supplies. This will be the last Wal-Mart I see for a month. Certain commodities ought to be getting got.

Wine is $2.96. There is nothing wrong with it. It even has a cork. I haven't had booze in a couple days, but I'm not totaling any tea. I got four bottles, and some gas for my stove. I got some buttwipes for the upcoming public restrooms, but left their nasty avocados alone.

South Florida is a fucking shitshow. The weather is beautiful, but I despise that drive. I got as close as ever to road rage, and had several what-the-fucking-fucks.

I wanted to be in Key West in time to ride my bicycle in the sun. Unfortunately there were as many fatal accidents as lanes. I crawled peacefully along in no hurry. I merged slowly and listened to podcasts. I blared old skate punk and rolled down the road.

By the time I arrived, darkness had fallen. I went to my go-to-always-works spot and parallel parked between two other crusty Dodge vans. I clicked off the engine, and felt terribly alone.

The air was a frigid 65 degrees with high winds. Weather I would have killed for a few days ago. My chest filled with anxiety, so I texted everyone I know. Feeling lonely and anxious is not scary. It is not without precedent. It is to be expected, which I already know.

I went under the front curtain, and entered the section of the van that is home. I pulled the cork out of a bottle Oak Leaf, and got to work with my phone. I texted Rochelle in Philadelphia - the more recent one who I know. I chatted with Lisa in Georgia, who I met on the Appalachian Trail. I texted Dave, and I heard from my sister and Mom. I do have some people. I wish one of them were here.

An hour later, everything was better. I had some wine and some weed and enjoyed an excellent movie. I have a fantastic van with everything I need.

South of the Border to Port St. Lucie, FL

I woke up at South of the Border. The night was cold, but with daytime came temperatures of up to sixty degrees. I switched to shorts for the foreseeable future. I used a horrendous restroom, and moved on.

The sky was gray, and light rains became heavy throughout the day. Traffic was a factor, but I have an abundance of time. I ate food that I brought with me, and ignored the attempts of billboards to swipe a dollar here and there.

I arrived at a Wal-Mart outside of Port St. Lucie, Florida. I did a loop of the parking lot, and came to a rest near the other dirtbag vans. Rolling equipment ranged from homemade to frankly fucking expensive. Us liveaboard folks run the gamut from too many dollars to almost none. I am in the happy medium. My income is far outpacing my spending. My goal for 2017 is to expand that gap as far as it will go. I am putting money away for more sunny days.

I entered the Wal-Mart for minor supplies. I got some crispy tostadas and cheese. I had a little cookout in the van, and listened to This American Life.

TOWARD KEY WEST >> South of the Border for sleep.

I woke up in a blurry state and prepared to hit the highway. First I stopped at home base to say goodbye to Mom and Dad. I cooked three eggs in a puddle of oil and we watched the news while I ate. Mom assembled two turkey sandwiches for the road. She put them in an empty bread bag with three oranges and two pieces of pie. I love my parents. It has been easy and comfortable staying here. I can't imagine how difficult my life might be without them. I am blessed to have such support.

I backed down the driveway, cued up some music, and drove to Route 1. I met I-95 in Maryland. Between there and South Carolina, I only stopped for gas and an oil change. I stuck to the food bag, and spent no additional dollars.

South of the Border is a purely ridiculous attraction. Built in 1949, and presumably not updated since. Fiberglass figures stand tall, and you cannot miss the lights from the road. By the time I arrived, it was late at night. I backed into a parking spot, went underneath the curtain, and made myself at home.

Final preparations and salutations.

The inline fuse holder arrived in mid-afternoon. I had the solar setup wired and running by the time of the sun's final light. I'm ready.

I spent the morning loading up. I tried to erase the evidence of my presence at my folks' place to at least a reasonable degree. I packed up my clothing and some business equipment. I brought the components for a simple kitchen. I loaded up more than I thought I would, but I still have room to spare. Everything I need is there. Clothing for any temperature. Electronics for any need.

I am ready.

After the sun went down, it was nearly time to visit Kat for the last time this season. We were invited to dinner in Oxford with a couple who she is friends with. An excellent couple. The girl was her college roommate, and her dude teaches wilderness survival. They live in Utah. The live in a fucking yurt. He wears some beat down flipflops regardless of situation. I imagine that more often his feet wear nothing at all.

I drank. Kat drove. I had an excellent time, but by the time we left I was smashed. We stayed up a little bit later. Driving was out of the question. I laid down on the couch and crashed.

Fixing the curtain situation for free.

No parts arrived, so today I prepared my van in other minor ways. I screwed the solar charge controller to the new section of beadboard wall.

Flashback:

I was riding my bicycle a few months ago, and something caught my eye from the side of the road. It turned out to be a piece of heavy canvas or vinyl material that had been used as a painter's tarp. It probably flew out of a pickup truck. I picked it up, and I can't remember why. It looked generally useful, so I stuffed it in the milk crate on my rack and continued on my way home.

Flash forward: 

Today I needed an additional piece of cloth for the van's front curtain. You can see a little bit of light through the current setup, and that will not do. The found cloth was an excellent size. No cutting needed - I just clipped it up to the roll bar. Now the curtain situation is thick enough so nobody can tell if I'm inside the van watching movies or reading a book.

If one improved curtain isn't enough to celebrate, then I'll share info on a second one: I'd misplaced my big homemade tie dye tapestry. I didn't make it, but I found it for a buck. It was at a church yard sale in Key West years ago, and it has a huge weed leaf that amuses me. The current side curtain was solid black, which made the van feel small, dark, and impersonal. I clipped up this goofy piece of cloth, and now it feels exactly like home.

Christmas and covering some wires.

It was Christmas. We opened gifts. A pleasant holiday was had.

I'm leaving soon. Imminently. I'm waiting for an inline fuse holder to go on the cable from the battery to the solar charge controller. I thought they'd have one locally, but I need a heavier gauge. Rats. I had to order one online, and it is setting me back a couple days.

I worked on other details. I cut some rectangles out of leftover beadboard from the tiny house project. I used that and some screws to obscure the spaghetti of wires traveling to the van's fuse box. It's much better, but it isn't great. Great will have to wait for summer. By far, this is good enough...

Christmas Eve 2016

This isn't a live update. Nay. Usually they're not. Let me consult my notebook. Fuck if I remember what I was doing a couple days ago, forget about weeks... It was cold. I remember that part. Now I'm in Key West. Whatever else is happening, it is not cold. It's warm. And I have a bicycle.

Back to the past. 

Here's what I'll call a journal entry from Christmas Eve 2016:

Us Harne folk went to visit the Snells. That's my sister, my bro-in-law Karl, and my nephew Benjamin. We ate holiday fare, and went to a church service, which is another type of holiday fare. It was a nice service. They have a great church with great people.

I don't have business in a church, but I remember a time many years ago when I did. I'm agnostic. I'm not against god. I don't begrudge anyone their faith in their God. I'm no genius. I'm no scientist. I'm a dirtball on my favorite days. You can pray for me or push me into the drink. All I care about is if you're nice and you're not hurting anybody with your words or actions or beliefs. Be quick to love and quick to care. The loudest people of faith give the humble majority a bad name.

Careful with the crack and Adderall.

I took the day off. The main thing on my list was to screw a charge controller onto the wall of my van. Not hard stuff, but I didn't manage it. I took no Adderall, because I woke up late and did not remember.

I can tell that Adderall is not dangerous for me, because it often happens that I forget it. Compare that with crack. I don't use crack, but I certainly never forget to take booze. Adderall is a controlled substance with a risk of addiction. Given that caveat, I have always respected it down to my core. But the fact remains that it is only a tool to me. I am being more careful than I need to.

Mr. Money Mustache - Google this guy.

I'm done work for the year. I boxed up every last book that I plan to sell. I annexed the Staples shipping center behind a heavy fortress of book-laden boxes. (In truth, it only felt that way - this time it was a mere ten.)

I have recently been making good money. I am making way more than I need. Before I stumble and fumble the ball, I'm trying to blast as much cash into dividend and interest-bearing savings as I can.

I have been reading the excellent and entertaining advice of Mr. Money Mustache. This is one of my favorite people. The blog is rife with sound advice backed up with simple math and presented by a dude to whom I can relate. Fundamental questions are answered; investment fears are assuaged. You do not see this brand of advice on television. His blog will calmly and carefully walk you through all of the specifics. Everything he says is backed up with logic, common sense, and math. And zingers. He has the capacity to be funny as fuck.

So I've been reading a ton over there, and it has been bolstering my confidence and increasing my optimism. I've been so excited about his advice, that I've been rambling on about it to anybody who will listen. If you have an inkling, you should go check it out.

I'm leaving on the 27th or 28th.

I am mentally ready to go. The solar panel needs a couple small parts. Those won't be here until the 27th. I'll be ready to leave on that day, or the 28th.

I waited too long to order pills from India with bitcoin. The whole process is a drawn out wait. So by the time my awesome brain pills arrive, I'll already be drinking under a kapok tree.

Countdown to Key West.

I am trying to leave in less than ten days. On paper, that seems easy to do. One day to send books, one day to finish the solar setup, one day to get packed up and ready. Naturally, I will wait until the final moment, and leave before I feel completely prepared.

Healthcare is by far my largest expense.

I fought my way into some high cost healthcare. Then I added some dental, since I can expect my fake front teeth to fall out any time. I get no discount, because I haven't paid my taxes, or at least word that I filed them doesn't travel too quickly.

I am a living eclipse.

I'm having a lot of late starts. I'm giving myself a lot of passes. I am a living eclipse. My elevator keeps getting stuck and opening between floors. With great freedom comes great responsibility - and I can shirk with the best.

Honoring Evan

I returned to Philadelphia for more horsing around. Evan is leaving town, so to honor him good people drank beer in a house.

Waking up cold, and checking in.

I woke up cold and insane. No headache; still drunk. Water jug frozen. Cold feet through thick socks and two layers of sleeping bag.

Back to sleep.

I woke up again an hour and a half later. I laid on my back and watched the clouds of my breath. Finally, I emerged from the bags. I cranked on the engine and tried to confer with my mind. I tried to recognize anything that looked like an idea or a plan. I hadn't had dinner, and I was hungry as fuck. I felt like a cold piece of garbage.

I navigated my boat to I-95, and plowed toward the suburbs, stopping for a hot hoagie and huge coffee along the way.

It was an easy day of arctic reading. Then I met Kat for wings at Victory. We went back to her place and sat around some more. Being that it's Friday, she didn't have work, so we stayed up a little bit later. I'm thankful as hell to have a friend in Kennett Square, and I'm glad we've been getting together more often. We'll always be close whether I'm around or not, but it's been nice to regularly check in.

Bedding down and synthetic in 17 degrees.

I got up late, and didn't start moving until early in the afternoon. I got an email from a Philly-based thrift store that alerted me to an immediate 50% off sale on books. I wish they'd give more notice. Twenty-four hours would help.

The temperature dropped into the 20's. I felt reluctant to go outside. I overcame personal recalcitrance and got my act together. I attached the solar panel feet to the roof a little better. The connection is not yet permanent, but it is strong and roadworthy now. Wires run down through the roof between the front seats, and don't connect to anything yet. The solar controller is not installed. That will need to happen soon.

I drove to Philly, and got some excellent books. Next was a show at Johnny Brenda's. I'd been on the fence about going, but the discounted books convinced me to stick around in the city. I took a small risk and hoped I would have an indoor spot to crash, since the temperature would dip to 17 degrees.

I found parking on a side street, and stopped at the El Bar to get cheaper drinks than at the show. After an hour, there was no chance of any driving. I bundled back up, and jogged the few blocks to the show.

I had a good time hanging out with myself. I'm having a nearly full-time out of body experience these days, and on this night especially, here's how it felt: I was able to observe myself with amusement, and watch my physical self pay and bring me along for free. He wore his new party uniform. He sported sparkly goldfish legs under jean shorts and old torn up tie dye that smells like his armpits. I regretted not suggesting colorful fingernails, but there's more time for frivolities later.

After the show, he returned to the El Bar, and waited to see if sleep would be inside or out. As the night progressed, preparations were made to batten down the hatches, and by that I mean use two sleeping bags at once. With his world spinning, he returned to the van. The temperature was crisp as he undressed for bed. He slid into the first sleeping bag, and zipped it up to the top. He shimmied into the second sleeping bag, and arranged both hoods together. He pulled down my hat, and arranged my pillow, and was asleep like the dead in five seconds flat.

Deals on discounted steaks.

Today would have provided and excellent opportunity to finish installing the solar panel. Instead, I did almost exactly nothing. It's hard to move sometimes. It's hard to stand up. I try to use force, but my body does not comply. 

Today is Wednesday. My folks have a scheme going for bargains on small discounted steaks. Deals on deals, with fries on the side. I was thankful to be brought along.

Solar Panel Install. Day 1: Murder on the Roof.

Today, I had one mission: Solar panel. Install. 

I knew it wouldn't be as easy as it seemed. From the instructions and the videos I've seen, the work is straightforward and uncomplicated. There are only a few warnings to heed, but thankfully little that can go wrong.

Attaching the provided feet to the panel was an easy matter of nuts and bolts. The hardware was provided in the kit that I bought, which is of the "Renogy 100 watt" description.

Next step was to take out the yellow stepladder. I lifted the panel onto the roof, and slid it approximately to the middle. I wanted the panel to sit squarely on the roof with no overhang, and sideways didn't look good. I turned the panel ninety degrees, and now it hung over the front. My reaction to this was "Fuuuuuuck...."

I was full to the brim of coffee and prescription amphetamines. "OK," I assured myself. "A small setback," I claimed to my brain. "All I have to do is move the vent."

I took off the solar panel, leaned it up inside, and returned to the roof and sat down. The vent could be moved back about four inches, which would allow the solar panel to sit back from the front edge of the roof. My primary concern was that an overhanging solar panel would catch highway-speed winds like a sail. Moving the vent would prevent that possibility, and I convinced myself this was important to get right.

I removed all the screws from the vent's flange, and used a razor knife and a putty knife to cut the silicone caulk and butyl tape. After some fighting and persistence, I pried out the vent. I taped some plastic inside the ceiling of the van to attempt to protect the interior from what was next. I used a jigsaw to expand the vent hole, which gets fiberglass dust everywhere. The plastic caught most of the debris, except where the jigsaw punched ten thousand holes. Moving on.

Now a couple hours had passed, and I stared down at the massive hole. I cut some scrap 3/4" plywood to fit the gap toward the front. I screwed the patch in place using some small flat galvanized plates with holes. It looked a little bit shy of what I'd call professional. I put the vent back in place with a new ring of butyl tape under the flange. I ran a fat bead of silicone around the edge of the vent, and in the gap around the plywood patch.

My plan was to use foil-backed roll roofing to cover the patch, but first I needed the silicone to dry. In normal conditions, that would mean a 30-minute break, but in 39 degrees, the estimate is closer to "forever."

I was running out of steam, and still didn't have the panel in place. The sun was already threatening to leave. I drilled holes in the roof for the wires from the panel, and marked where the feet would be screwed down. But I couldn't make a permanent connection yet, because the back of the panel would overlap the patch, and I would not be able to access the gap to put down the roll roofing.

So I was stuck.

My meds wore off, and my brain started to congeal. I raised both middle fingers toward the sky. I screwed down the panel in a temporary manner, and tried to ignore the instinct to shotgun a fifth.

Reading books about the cold.

Monday. Back to work? Not quite. It was hard to break the ice and free the runners on the sledge.

Instead, I read about arctic exploration. There are two books titled "Endurance," and I've already read the second one. Now I am working on the earlier book by F.A. Worsley, who was Shackleton's second in command. The other Endurance book is written by Alfred Lansing. I can confidently call that one a favorite.

Another favorite book takes place in the northern hemisphere. "The Last of the Gentlemen Adventurers: Coming of Age in the Arctic" is definitely worth a penny plus shipping. I personally guarantee it. I'll give anybody four dollars if they read it and think that I'm wrong.

Back to the south pole. I read "Alone in Antarctica" written by the first woman to cross the continent unassisted and pulling a sled. I wish I had a dollar for every time the author cries.

"On the Ice: An Intimate Portrait of Life at McMurdo Station, Antarctica" was enjoyable. This book explains daily life at McMurdo, describing it from a female perspective, from a writer who attempts to let you into her head. I think this book is worth a gander, if you like ice with your honest and open accounts.

Brain soup and waking up at one a.m.

Today I did closer to nothing. I woke up late and went to sleep again. I read one chapter of a book, and I took zero Adderall. My skull contained brain soup today. It was all I could muster to drive to Philadelphia. By 6pm and with a giant coffee, I was finally ready to move. I hung out with two Rochelles and a Michael, and provided a plate of nachos.

I left late, and stayed up later. Around one o'clock in the morning, I felt like my day began.

Goldfish spandex is comfortable and fresh.

Saturday. Working just a little. Nothing wrong with that.

After work, I went to a gathering and wore my boss new goldfish spandex - feeling comfortable and fresh. I drank an allowable amount, and then switched to only beer. Just like I said, right? That was the plan.

Mark my calendar. That solar panel is going up on Tuesday. After that, the forecast is increasingly grim.

The safe nature of my filing system.

The thing about drugs is that you keep needing more. I bumped up my Adderall intake from 10mg to 15mg. I'm prescribed a full twenty, which would currently be absurd. At first when you increase, the dividends are huge. I have been an unassailable robot for a week. Eventually, however, it all evens out. You're back where you started, but worse. Take a little bit more, and a day off gets more sluggish.

For the time being, none of that is a problem. It's only another item to be aware of. I make a list of such items on scraps of paper. I keep my papers in a roaring fire pit, and bury the ashes deep underground.

Looking forward to laddering.

Focus on this! Focus on that! I'm doing what I usually do.

My interest at the moment is to dominate at selling books. There are a hundred things I could probably do better, but in spite of that I'm still doing great. I hope books keep existing for years, and I hope the increased competition doesn't eventually crush my job. The marketplace gets a little bit harder every year, but my skills and comfort are increasing at a higher rate.

Soon I will reach my monthly output goal, which at present is 1,000 books. I reached my monthly income goal with 27 days to spare.

There is an impending need for an abrupt about-face. This solar panel isn't going to install itself. The weather report is only curiouser and curiouser. Soon I will find myself on a yellow step ladder wearing a hat and gloves.

CDs and steaks.

I shrinkwrapped a lot of CDs and DVDs. It can be a tedious task, but you listen to music while you work, and by the time you have them in a box, it feels like you didn't do much.

My savings goals are on track, I don't pay rent at the moment, and my parents invited me out for a deal on low-cost steak.

Teaching turtles to pay their taxes.

Today I paid my taxes. Everything I owed since 2014. Well, I paid the state and local ones, but I only filed with no payment yet for the IRS. My accountants provided the figures and forms. I only needed a pen and some stamps.

I started a second cup of coffee, and I took a deep breath. No recess until the homework is finished.

I opened a thick Tyvek packet with a folder containing organized papers like I've never seen before in my life. Paperclips separated tasks into useful sections. Envelopes were provided and pre-addressed. Post-it notes gave me a greeting and overview, and detailed instructions were outlined with the important parts highlighted. Small tabs were affixed to forms wherever a signature was needed. My accountants did everything but hold my hand as I wrote out the checks.

Even with the quality of the preparation, the actual task nearly melted my brain. I had to read everything five or six times, because it is impossible to focus for longer than a few words. I'd read half the first sentence, then skim to the end, eventually reading entire paragraphs out of order. Then I'd start at the beginning and try it again. Giving me taxes is like teaching a turtle to play air hockey, and expecting him to not get slammed by the puck.

Books and ballast in Doylestown and beyond.

I went to a book sale in Doylestown. It was heavily advertised, so the atmosphere was tense and the competition dense. The starting pistol was fired and a throng of jackasses pushed forward. Those who were there to make money quickly pushed the elderly and disabled aside. They carry boxes and bags and stacks of Rubbermaid bins. They march toward the textbooks with purpose. Barcode scanners and phones are out, and the grabbing commences. In the first five minutes, some money is made. Then the books that are worth money online are all gone or well hidden. I wander around using a much keener eye. I recognize value where some others haven't noticed it. Those of us who do better have our own little tricks.

I left the sale with a reasonable bounty. Not anything wonderful, but technically worth the drive. Most of the day was still ahead, so I decided to regroup and see what other sources to visit. I ate a Kind bar, because that's always what I do when I get dizzy and I'm trying to do work. I poured about nine gallons of piss in the woods, and I'm saying that in confidence, or at least with confidence, because these words paint a picture of my life.

I stopped at two more sources. One where I was successful in the past, and another as yet untapped. When I headed home, the sun had disappeared, which isn't saying much for December. But on the hour-plus drive in traffic, I listened to The Knife and Clams Casino. The big van with the tall fiberglass hat sailed smoothly along the highway. The ballast in the hold was provided by books, and the adventure had a pleasant ending today.

Lazy Sunday and a folding hand truck.

I was up until four o'clock for no particular reason, so I didn't see the light until minutes before noon. Oh, wonderful Sunday - any excuse to be lazy. I performed light administrative tasks until the light disappeared too soon.

I don't ask for anything for Christmas. Things and stuff are something to deal with, and I have enough on my plate. I feel spoiled and unfairly blessed, so I don't need more fodder either physical or imagined to juggle literally or figuratively. However, the Harne family tradition is to provide beyond all reason, so I'm always along on this ride.

But, wait!

What do I need, but didn't know it? What item can I use that isn't a chore? My folks figured out that I could use a folding hand truck. Of course! I'm not sure why they gave it to me now, but I'm busy schlepping books, so it will help me with my chores.

Goblin purchases first edition for a buck.

I woke up in the comfort of my van on the nearly empty block where I parked last night. My van was comfortable, but I was not. My head was full of goblins, and I needed coffee in a cup that is too large to physically exist. I needed a public restroom so I could rip one of the toilets right off the wall.

I had business to attend to. An hour to the north were many shelves of books with the prices cut in half. I hovered over the books like the vestige of a goblin wondering how many drinks it takes until my body wants infinitely more. And how can I communicate with this bastard? The one who dares to order these drinks? Can I slip him a suggestion that maybe if we share a body, it would be in both of our interests to keep it alive?

I felt considerably droopy, but I would not be dissuaded from due diligence on the hunt. Today was a book buying day, so I stayed focused and propped up my body until lunch. After a break and a tall vat of coffee, I began to feel completely sane. For a cherry on top, I visited one more location, where I found a first edition Hemmingway as a reward. I got The Old Man and the Sea for one dollar. It was a hardcover, and that's what hardcovers cost...

Ended up at the El Bar.

Today I swooped around knocking more items off the to-do list. Everything got done. I got a new license photo. In what must be record time, I spent under eight minutes at the DMV. This is a true fact. From the time I entered to the time I walked out, less than eight minutes had elapsed.

With a warm new license in my pocket, I went to a library with a secret sale area. There is a small shelf of books upstairs, and it looks like that is everything available. However, if you ask, there are also books downstairs. Many more. Better ones. I had a field day there.

From the library, I went to hang out with Jonas. I still intend to write about our hike. Either because I'm bad at taking care of myself, or my timing was just right, he cooked for me. Or in any case, I was included. Lentils and whatnot with broccoli to put in it. It probably saved my life.

We went to the bar where I only order specials. I had too many and wondered later if I made an ass of myself. Usually when I think so, it's pretty much fine. Nobody has stabbed me yet, and I haven't lost any friends. But maybe next time when cheap whiskey spills out of my ears, I can switch to only beer instead.

Getting Shit Done.

I got another late start. Late starts aren't optimal, but I don't mind if I still Get Shit Done. I had a midday frustration meltdown that stopped my progress cold. I cursed everything I could think of while my ears were shooting steam. Now I'm over it. Nobody died. But miniature sized glitches make me insane. Blow off my legs with a grenade, and I'll manage to be stoic. But when I can't edit printer settings, or access my seller account - all bets are off.

I still hit my numbers. I did what I was supposed to. Everything is okay.