Caterwauling

That’s what I’m manifesting today.

Not that I expect to be 86’d.

But even if I were, I’d be OK.

First, I’d laugh.

Then I’d pack up my Teams Machine and drop it off on the way to Disney World.

I’d either move up my Pittsburgh trip. Or sleep until I have to drive to Miami for my flight.

I wouldn’t tell anyone.

I’d rather just reinvent myself and then reappear as new me, who dis.

And honestly? The thought of that is motivation enough to get through another day.

Today is hopefully the catch-up day I’ve needed for five years. Just one meeting.

Of course, I’ve said that every day.

But today, I mean it.

And if it should ever go otherwise, cash me outsside in the theme parks.

I need help. So much help.

My LinkedIN is filling up with messages from people who want to get a paycheck.

Like no, not you.

I asked Kelly about one of the guys. “We don’t like him, right?”

She said, “If you like dead weight, he’s great.”

I’m not responding.

I felt bad about that for a moment.

But then I realized I have a note out to Jimmy that the LOVE OF OUR LIVES is dead. And I ain’t heard jack about that.

So you know what? Go be dead weight somewhere else.

I feel completely behind and out of my fucking gourd every day. I am burned out by 4 p.m. most days. Yet I look at Don’t Treadmill on Me like I run circles around that even when I’m plagued by the poop lettuce. (Goddamn it.)

No one has ever, EVER considered me dead weight.

And I have paid enough of those people a paycheck for one lifetime.