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.
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