After the visit of
fallenseraph yesterday, I went to the gym stopping briefly before at the Roebuck for burger & chips so I didn't crash halfway through the new allegedly milder workout that's taken two inches off my legs and which causes my jeans to hang emo-fashion. Discovered that crashing in front of the telly was still socially acceptable, ate first and did so, scribbling half-hearted notes before sleeping eight hours.
Let me emphasise that last point. Eight hours. I haven't slept eight hours straight in a very long time.
The mixtape is refining. Now for a little housework.