He wakes up. His kindle fire is literally on fire. He had it plugged in all night and the radio was still on and the back of it is burning his face and it hurts dear god it hurts so much. He prepares for his health check but when he gets there he learns that it is just for blood work and then he gives blood and he knows the nurse and he babbles and she smiles and he tries to flirt but he fails because he has no flirt tools and then after he has given his blood he leaves. He gets the bus to work and he reads some more of The Varieties of Religious Experience. He has nearly finished it. It is interesting. The day carries on. He eats a lean pocket or two and then some nuts and has too much coffee. He is also enjoying the work of Octavia Butler. His dating life is non existent. It was almost about to become existent but the person in question had a personal family tragedy to quite understandably refocused her attention to important things and not to him. He directs a show and even though it requires great skill it does not feel like it requires great skill and he feels as if, yet again he does a mediocre job of it. His ex-wife very kindly gives him some money that she doesn’t really owe him and he is thankful for that. Then he eats some lovely food which is chicken and which is sauce and pasta and then he plays i-spy and then he talks with a good friend for a while and then he does some writing and some dreamstorming and then he thinks about sex and then he goes to sleep.