I ate a cookie.
It was delicious. It was a melty kind of cookie. It was ginger and sweeter than a pixie stick. And potent.
My day was spent in front of a computer earning cash to pay for the roof over my head and the smoke in my smoke box. There weren't too many exciting moments, but I am quickly learning that a lot of people are bereft of real meaning of the word "emergency".
In an attempt to be a healthy pothead, I am walking too and from work, which amounts to about an hour of walking per day. This is bringing me way beyond my goal of ninety minutes per week, but that's OK. I went to the doctor the other day and discovered that I am forty pounds lighter than I had originally thought. Yippee for me.
I'm not seriously devoted to anything these days except for my daily puff and work. I figure if it's something that I have to do, I might as well teach myself to like it rather than spend my days in misery trying to find reasons why not to go.
Besides, if I do well at work, I can better afford to do the things that I would really like to do, like start planning a business model for Remedy Radio as a viable, money making Internet radio station.
You know what they say; if you're going to dream, dream big.
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