I must have tried five times to wake up this morning, but I just couldn't get up.
But I'm drinking fresh-brewed coffee now, with Porkchop at my feet and Osa at my elbow.
Osa's funny: she only sleeps on the pillow at my elbow when either the radio or tv is on. At night, I don't know where she sleeps.
I desperately need a shower, but don't trust my legs to support me yet.
I heard back from free speech radio. I have to transcribe, word-for-word, every interview in my piece. And I have to convert the .wav file to mp3. I can't do either from here. And I can't get there; I have no money left for gas.
I probably won't be able to do it 'til Wednesday.
I already wrote them; they know.
This will work out to about 3 or 4 dollars per hour.
What a chore!
But I'll do it. I need the money.
At least they're interested.
But if I do all this work and they turn it down, I'll be devistated. I won't have any more money until the 3rd of next month!
I won't be able to go anywhere or do anything, without gas.
And this is the week the remodelling starts in earnest, so Danny will be up to his ... in alligators for months. I'd hate to ask him for a ride every day.
Right now, I'm just waiting to hear back from FSRN.
So, here I sit: worrying.
That damned bank REALLY messed me up, changing its policies without time for me to budget! Bastards!
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