My short attention span

I got bored with measuring his state in Smirnoffs the same night I came up with the idea.

I've given up numbering the days since I last attempted to drown my very many sorrow, though for the record that was Sunday evening last week so we're now nine days or getting a lift through life.

I'm easily bored. The Paper Shuffler attempted to teach me the End of Week duties last Sunday which is why I was at work from such an obscenely early hour. The mystique in which the duties are shrouded make appear daunting. The truth is it is just like every other day of the week, with a little twist and lots more report generating. No one will expect you to have read let alone understood any of it. This is accounting by rote. And still she struggles. Tonight I sat down and wrote out from memory what I could recall of what she'd had me do. Damn fine notes I wrote too. I reckon another training session and I'll have her job nailed.

Or as Bolshie Book Worm put it, don't redesign her job for her all in one go.

There'll be fewer posts than usual during the next four weeks and a couple of days. From November 1 I'm going into self-imposed exile from large chunks of ordinary life. I'm off writing a rather different kind of writing. Only twenty four hour and a half hours of procrastinating to go.