random moronics

I don't have anything of interest to say, especially nothing of the quality of the last post's chillingness.

So I'll pretend this is Facebook, and make pointless announcements about the minutaei of my day.

I have a folding table that is acting as a sideboard but really just collecting dust in my hall. I'm Freecycling it, the woman who wants it mailed again today to check it was still ok to pick up. I just pulled it out, hoovered 7 year's worth of dust from under and around it, continued hoovering zealously for a bit, then thought, hmm, todays' the 6th, I'm sure she said the 7th. I checked her mail, and yes. She's talking about tomorrow. Ah well. It's ready now, anyway.

I still haven't worked out how to be present enough to myself to a) remember what date it is and b) connect that with dates of things that are going to happen.

I was proud of myself for sorting out my Visa payments early this month, until last night, when I squinted more closely at my online account and realised I'd managed to pay both payments onto only one card. So now of course, I no longer have the money to make that payment to card no 1 without borrowing back from card no 2.

It's demoralising, the lengths I go to to fuck things up financially, even when I'm trying to do the opposite. I need some sort of psychologist-accountant type to come manage my life. I know they exist, I've seen 'em on Oprah.

Hmm. Maybe I should write her a letter, and see if I could just put myself in the hands of the Oprah show. It could be like some sort of altruistic make-over sscience experiment, no?