A deliberate move...

I hate feeling pressured. And one of the things I can definitely do without is any feeling of having to post to my journal.

There was a time, many moons ago, when I decided I wanted to post at least once a day for a year. I did that, but aside from punching a fairly obscure square on the "ticket of life," I'm not sure there was any clear benefit. I post often enough for my taste (except when I'm sick, but enough of that).

This morning started with some serious Café du Monde coffee, so I am revved for the day. More work has come in (it seems that Fridays are charmed, these past few weeks).

Galina and I need to get some paint for the Webster house, as it occurs to us that the off-white-toward-yellow tint of the paint on the walls does not go well with the grayish tone of the floor covering we've bought. I plan to both paint (my job one summer while at the university) and put down the flooring (folks make it seem so easy), which oughta save a few simoleons in the process.

So I guess I ought to go see what, exactly, those translation assignments are all about.

It's going to be an exciting weekend!

Cheers...