A 16-post collection


Not only do I have a crook Mayhem to fret about, but there's also a cleaning day. Mayhem's earliest appointment to see the Doc is right about exactly in the afternoon when I need to be watching for Chaos, so there's going to be some juggling there.

Fun times.

I dunno what the everloving eff is up with my bod. I'm under macros but over calories and it's either proof that calories are made up bullshit or something else be going on. I shall be keeping a close eye on any warning signs beyond general lethargy.

I could be in the process of catching the Dreaded Local Tummy Bug(tm), but it could be something (anything) else. I'm not panicking until I get a chain of symptoms to put together.

For all I know, it could be the wrong ashwagandha doing its tricks.

Whatever it is, I kind'a hope it's sorted, because I do not want to be the housespouse that dieticians hate. I mean, I had an entire vanilla slice, last night, with firkin icing, and I still managed to drop half a kilo.

What. The. Actual. Flip?

I don't even know any more.

But I'm still tracking my food so whatever. At least I'll have a record of what up.

It's about almost time to watch for Chaos' bus, so I'd better call in Mayhem just in case the office decides they need a memo.

Bloody tummy bugs.





Between one and two AM, this morning, I couldn't sleep for the pain in my face. And of course I couldn't be arsed getting up for painkillers because one firkin AM.


So yeah. I'm not on all cylinders this morning.

Mayhem is under the weather because local tummy bug, and my money run is going to include dropping off a piece of paper because doctor's notes have to happen.

He should be fine tomorrow. I, however, am not

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Anthology Pending

I have immense trouble with sequential numbering. Anyone with the right amount of search chops plus my archives will be able to tell you that.

So of course I'm going through the latest Year of Instants to be absolutely, positively certain that I have all my ducks in a row.

Alarming discovery #1 - I somehow have three hundred and sixty-eight chapters when I should have three hundred and sixty-five.

Alarming discovery #2 - I somehow missed putting in an entire story

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Last Day!

It's the penultimate day before I take the long-arse journey back home. Richer for experience and poorer for cash [eh. Whaddayagunnado] but definitely a happier person for all the experiences.

I now know how to pan for gold. Got bupkiss but the experience, but I know how to do it. The trick is not spending a fortune in the chase for the mother-load. That ship done sailed more than a century ago.

The PLN, such as it is, is to be certain

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I should have my own calendar

It's going to be the tenth of January before I put the last words into 2018's Year of Instants. I'm ten days out of sync with the calendar as it stands.

I may request some twofer prompts so I can get close to resyncing with the calendar. The last attempt didn't end well because successive disasters, but I'm willing to give it another go. Otherwise, it would just get worse.

I'll be home by the Big Day, and theoretically able to quickly

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Game night tonight!

Obviously, I didn't finish novelising the last installment of Gerroff's adventures. I'll get there. It's just... really low priority.

The mystery of the multiple postage companies has been solved so much that I can timeline the events:

  1. Stevia Company sends me my stevia via Shipping Company 1
  2. AusPost won't take none of that shit
  3. Shipping Company 1 returns parcel to Stevia Company
  4. Stevia Company sends me my stevia via Shipping Company 2
  5. Who immediately just send it of via Australia Parcel Post
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Several things have gone wrong with my day including the original text for this post going missing.

  1. Parcel delivery missing without a trace
  2. Twice
  3. Place that used to have Stevia is completely without it
  4. So super delayed on today's story I can't even
  5. I JUST got back from the run-around and got a message that my postal locker has a parcel -_-
  6. Decide to finish the Instant at least so that SOMETHING got done today
  7. Mayhem has plans to be a
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Mayhem needs some paperwork signed at his traineeship. I, therefore, have to uproot my usual Friday routine, get a transit card, travel with Mayhem to the city, sign documents, travel back, go home, and then fulfil my usual daily tasks.

At least I'm taking my lappy with me so I can work on my novel in transit. One bright point is that I get my 1K words in relatively early so I can focus (ha!) on other things.

What it means to

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Oh, it's All So Nice...

There's an old comedy song and, like most old comedy songs, it hasn't aged well. I don't remember all of it because I have a mind like a steel seive, but the chorus has stuck with me.

Oh, it's all so nice in the nuthouse/ All alone in me little padded cell/ Oh it's all so nice in the nuthouse/ And the doctors and the nurses treat me well...

Today... promises to be one of those days where I wish someone else

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It's official

Spring has sprung, my dear readers. The weather is warming to the point where I don't need my fluffy hat to prevent my sneezing myself into oblivion.


On the other hand, it's moving into Summer and I've done exactly jack and shit on the Sleep Evil Sleep Project.

Biggest hurdle - getting an accurate 'read' on where I left the animation so that I can get back on and sync the next bit. I did have a program that could play

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FUBAR'ed Again

Mayhem re-scheduled a make-up day to today so he could have his birthday. Fine. I made plans to drop him off at the train station so he could get there and get back.

Snag one: After taking literally two short trips inside city limits, he has somehow spent $35 of the $45 he had on his transit card.

Snag two: There are no trains today.

After turning the air blue, I drive back to the train station, set up the GPS, and

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I've got this.

[AN: This should have been posted yesterday. Sorry about that]

The AC has crashed in my main parlour of employment, turning the entire room and anyone in there into humid, sticky goop incapable of rational thought.

And since I was running around, most of yesterday, I didn't do any of the post scheduling that my prescient past self had already done this Friday past.

However, it's too hot in my office to use the computer on the regular, so I have to

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::muttered curses::

Stackedit is no longer my favourite editing program because it sucks now.

Basically, it doesn't like any file much over 25000 words and its save function doesn't. This, as you can imagine, puts a serious crimp on my style. Especially since my aim is generally WAY more than 25000 words.

I started writing this thing on Novl'r as a way of keeping my shit together. Then I 'ported it to Stack so I could work on it at a professional level.


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Unriddling the SNAFUs

Okay. I've had some errata happening with Steemit. And the queue function. And it seems like I have to have the queue page open so that it will post my blasts from the past.

Math has made it possible for me to deduce that the queue site's twelve noon is my 9PM. So if I want it to post at my twelve noon, I have to schedule stuff for 3AM.

And I'll be starting with the tales that got skipped in the

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