Factory Worker

Oy.  I don't have time to write this morning.  I partied last night, drank too much, mixed in some other ingredients, and stayed up too late.  I think it was the staying up that did it.  I had my vast music library on shuffle all day.  It was amazing, but you know what music does to you.  It can fuck you up. Old music, anyway.  Evocative of time and place.  Memories.  At the same time, I was going through old digital photo files.  So last night, music playing, I stayed up, organized some drawers full of cables and connectors of every kind.  Apple has made a mess of things.  I have to have adaptors for every one of their old connections, often multiple.  But I sat and untangled the Gordian knots and wrapped them all up neatly and put like with like into plastic bags.  Then I did something similar with all the power adapters.  It felt good.  I was texting, too, and then it was midnight--way past my bedtime.  I've always been early to bed which is why I look so damned good!

It was probably the late bedtime that did it.

This morning, I've agreed to go back to work.  I am going to be doing online work for a Chinese factory for five weeks this summer.  I am doing it because I lost so fucking much of my retirement money in Trump's market.  I keep betting against him and losing.  The Chinese are paying big bucks, but I will be earning every penny.

So a late start today and much prep getting ready for my new factory job.  It gives me something to think about, I guess, but I'm stressing all over the place right now.

One note.  The feral cat came up and brushed against my leg today.  She never, ever gets that close.  Huh.  I think she likes me.