Where is my F***ING Palm Pilot

This is really, really not good. Not good at all. At. All.


Although this was a borderline-gratuitous purchase to begin with (the Monopoly/scrabble chip notwithstanding), I really have come slowly to develop a 'calendar' routine. Anybody who knows me knows that developing a routine that doesn't depend on me keeping inordinate piles of information in my head knows what a huge goddamn step this is.

Most of my stuff is neatly coded inside my computer. And I'm getting better about checking.

I'm starting to keep lists, gain focus. Trying to get a grip.

And the fucker is gone. Fucker, fucking shit.

Fucking Tungsten. I knew it was too good to be true. I was just getting Graffiti 2. I knew I didn't deserve it, and it's still got the new-case smell.

If you loved me, you'd buy me a new one, whoever you are.

(I don't know who you are. I'm just whining in utter frustration about the Sisyphean nature of it all, while scratching a plot of my hours on the back of a business card).

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