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Today, I procured a program to help me get my stories on the computer, as this new one didn’t come with Microsoft Office. My “source” said that they would not put what it was in writing, so I won’t either. Suffice it to say it’s not illegal and it gets me started with a writing program. People are so sensitive about what they tell you in business on the grounds it may incriminate them should they not be able to deliver on something they promised; this is a habit I should get into. If I cannot promise it, I will not guarantee it.

I have begun to write in my journal again at work so that I can remember some of the random things I want to write about when I get home. So far I haven’t gotten any stellar results from that. But I did make some interesting notes on my newest iPod enhancement: the audiobook. I am listening to Bram Stoker’s Dracula on my iPod, and noticing some elements of style that I hadn’t thought to use in my own writing, hadn’t really been aware of, if truth be told. If this is your first time encountering this book, as it was mine, it is a collection of journal entries, correspondence, telegrams, and newspaper clippings. This gives it a sort of scrapbook effect. It can get frustrating but ultimately it’s rewarding. Most importantly, it’s fair; you cannot say that you were mislead. You can have overlooked, but you are not deliberately turned away from the magician while he does his tricks.

It’s still dreadfully cold in the office. I brought my blanket and my stay at home, cozy socks with me into the office.  I took the elevator for the day because I didn’t want to freeze in the stairwell. the elevator made an awful grating sound, metal against metal, whenever it descended from the third floor to the second. One of my coworkers postulated that the cords were freezing because of the cold air, not something you want to hear whilst riding up and down on an elevator as often as I had to today. Luckily, nothing froze over and broke, and I made it safely about my work, managing to get done quite a bit before being overtaken by a large headache around 4:30 p.m. and limping across the finish line like a lame horse.  Indeed, RuPaul did not have my job in mind when fiercely proclaiming “You betta work!” However, work I did, until the final whistle blew. I arrived home exhausted and am even now, 5 1/2 hours lately, still fiercely tired and with the remnants of a dull headache. My body aches vaguely from my gym excursion of yesterday. I have no desire to do anything but lay down and perhaps sleep for a few hours. However, I wanted to make sure that at some point before midnight, when a new day will have officially begun, that I wrote something for this day. It’s way to earlier to throw my New Year’s goals aside.

I have much to remember to do tomorrow morning, to include returning library books, paying rent, mailing my broken phone to the insurance company, and remembering to take back the software program I borrowed to its rightful owner.