Tomorrow is our first dick butter cook. Like meth, only different. I cleared my schedule for today, calling in Quiet (my "sick") in order to prepare. I intended to clean the kitchen while dancing to whatever plays for me. 

Nebraska texts me. Says he will "give me all the space and time I need" . Uh, thanks God of Space and Time, for what shall I use these gifts? 🙄 I don't respond.

Then my sister calls to debrief the follow up she got from Nebrasks until I could tamp my FURIOUS down to not giving a shit enough to think, then we mulled the possibilities. When we get to discussing Janis, the fat dog he adores but never actually cared for (cough cough), we spitball that it would be great if Nebrasksa fell in love with a cat lady in Omaha, and then I could move to Phoenix for the job he discarded there, and he wouldn't want me or the dog. "Let's manifest that!", she declares. Okay let's! smib, laughing

An hour after that, Nebraska texts me to ask what I'm doing? I don't respond again. 

An hour after that, Priest emails me, wants to set up a meeting. I haven't responded. I forward it to Sister for wording the response. 

See how this owns every one of my waking hours? Nebraska just TAKES. Built for it.

I'll meet with the priest. I cannot afford not to. And Nebraska knows that. Cornering me into responding.  Shoo!!

Playlist tbd. I'm going to take a very hot bubble bath and smoke a big fat joint.