Diary #404

My friend Winnie figured out why I was so hormonal week before last:  in addition to the shift to let’s-all-lie-about-the time, it was exceptionally sunny in Seattle all week and my nervous system just couldn’t quite handle it.  But last week was more stable; not only was it chillier and gloomier (and thus more soothing to my overheated neurons), I was also very busy with work.  And really good work, too; three duos in 8 days (two of them with Lorelei), three regular clients and other work, much of it multi-hour.  So despite the disastrous news about FOSTA, at least I’m getting ahead of my budget and maybe I’ll even be able to pay my income tax on time this year (which hasn’t happened in over a decade).  That was an unusually merciful move on the part of the scheduling gods; had I had a slow, stressful week the FOSTA news would’ve been far more difficult for me to cope with.  Well, I’m going out to Sunset this Saturday and bringing the pullets with me; they’re big enough to go into the henhouse now, and I could use a couple of days in the country.  Here’s hoping the next few months keep going smoothly in my personal life, because something tells me I’m going to have to deal with plenty of fallout from the prohibitionists’ latest attempt to exterminate me and nearly everyone I care about.