I just banged out 1,899 words on the globalization of money markets. Please. Keep it your pants, as I know you want some but I’m a happily confuzzled married man that should be taking some drugs right now that would allow me to shut down all feelings until day 91 when I finish my last final for this monstrous quarter. Robot accounting works since those million dollar checks are nothing but numbers in a ledger but applying the same conceptualization to a six and nine year old while trying to remain part of their lives is borderline abuse.
No more robot coasting to the next assignment or class or achievement. They continue to flourish with simple queries about their day, and I feed off of their energy despite running these days with that low fuel light on. “In a few weeks when daddy is done” becomes put the laptop down for 30 minutes and put together that Halo Lego set with 750 pieces and can assembled within that half hour. Not really. That fucking box lies worse than the Imp after being cornered by Lady Stark (yes, I'm hooked on Game of Thrones now bear with me please as its been awhile since I've attempted to watch something that came out in the current decade). And the pieces?!?! I’ve seen larger attaching parts on a baby mosquito. Carpal tunnel surgery will come from helping out with these monstrosities versus banging out 4,000 words today (Sunday Warm-Up tonight at PokerStarsBlog, a prelude to the 7th Anniversary Sunday Million which an hour and half before game time already has over 18,000 runners and a cool million guaranteed to the winner).
See you on the other side.