Not going to make quota.

Nothing I can do at this point but start cycles and conversations for next month, which is promising to be a tricky one as the third is arriving.  9/15 he’s expected to be here.  Not stressing about it now or ever.  Can’t afford to, quite literally.  Thinking I won’t take any time off, as I’m working from home anyway.  I don’t know.

3:58.  At 4, beer.  Need to plan tomorrow.  Go to bed earlier tonight.  And if not, just lay and make notes on phone, post to blog.  Post everything to this fucking blog.  All notes and sights, turns and decisions, steps and prose in one spot, one bottle… one project.  ME.

The offices on the Petaluma Wharf, that one building… has me everywhere, wanting everything.  So go get everything, I tell myself.

Holy shit, September… here.  I have to wake earlier, at 5.  If I don’t, dreams die.

Going to write EOD…. Draw tomorrow, approach as architecture.  Approach everything as architecture.

Kids request some mango as a snack.  Get I for them then back to desk.

Wind shoving the house a bit.  Has me thinking about shoving myself toward Day 365, and my office that now I’m seeing on the wharf, or close by.  In the next hour, before five, I’ll have my EOD done, businesses targeted for tomorrow’s calls, and some LinkedIn work.  I’m understanding fully the value of time to self… of cold and caressing quiet.

4-5, write.  Then at 5:15 or 5:30 launch for run.  Not sure how that will work in winter, when it gets darker earlier, or lighter later or… I don’t know ho wit works.  Then write and plan, put worlds in place as day moves toward its close.