So, that happened.  And kept happening.

I started writing this morning about the Quentin Tarantino thing, and Luiz wanted to vacuum.  I jumped up to help him and somehow I started cleaning my bedroom.  I started picking up a snarl of wires, and here nine hours later...

I cleaned. Everything.  My desk, my files, my life.  I now have a working system in place for productivity, both on paper, and in life.  Shit is coded.  Shit is organized.  I've got the planner working and full of information.  I had no idea how badly I needed it again.  Irv points out... "please, from when I met you, you had one of those things right up till a few years ago."  He's right.  I am planner dependent.

I am exhausted.  Panda and I started a blog today, Honk if you're GLORIOUS.  It's going to be amazing.  She's amazing.  I'm pretty fucking great too.

It's quittin time.  Translate:  It's Surfer Buffy Minecraft time.

I need to come up with a name for the Surfer.