Downstairs for Dancing, Lad, Downstairs for Dancing

So; the clock, as they are always saying as if its still original - as if it still has any kind of dramatic impact as a measure of time because it always does it, is ticking.

And instead of winding down, tying things up, closing books and other airbrained phrases which mean 'ending' only use more words and take more breath to say, things are getting...more intense.

I was up, working, until 1am this morning. Revising certain elements of engineering maths, fluid mechanics, stress cycles. Today I am exhausted, because I came into work for 8am. This evening I may be called upon to shmooze. For my own benefit, of course. I'm trying to sort something out for America, for Krissa's and my future together.

So I'm up to my ears in it, but the work I've done so far has reduced the level of intensity a little. Tomorrow lunchtime, hopefully, it will more or less have passed, and tomorrow is my last day at work.

Before Saturday I have to organise all of my stuff, clean my room enough to get my security deposit back, throw away a huge amount of crap, and move out.

I have allocated the whole of Friday to this task.

One week and one day into the future, I am catching a plane to New York.

Downstairs for dancing.