I started to write about how bored I’ll be now that I’m not going to be doing this, but caught myself just in time. After all, I learned the hard way that bitching in my journal about boredom is asking for trouble. For some reason, God seems to think that my boredom should be cured with trouble.

I just wish my schedule wasn’t what it is, but again, I’ll leave Teddy Bear to fate. If we’re fated to meet, she’ll be fated to call, and I’ll be fated to get that call.