Night of the Wolverine
ONE Wednesday morning. The office – home, not dayjob – is humid and muggy. In the coming months it’ll be muggy as hell, which is probably the queue I need to go buy a fan in order to get through summer. Although, knowing me, I’ll just open a window and go, geez, the office is muggy as hell today. This will usually be followed by the phrase fuck you, Brisbane. ‘Cause, really, there’s no need for this. TWO Meetings at the day-job yesterday. Good meetings, for me, at least. In 2013 I’ll be working at the day-job three days a week and keeping the other four to use for MY OWN NEFARIOUS PURPOSES. Which means, you know, writing. If you do not believe that writing counts as a NEFARIOUS PURPOSE, you obviously don’t live inside my head. This is, however, a case of getting what I wanted without necessarily being a case of getting what I planned for. I dislike living without
