I'm sitting on the couch with Otto cuddled up to my right leg, enjoying generating AI image for my old blog posts, it is currently my favourite thing to do. Oh, you never know, some producer might discover it one day and turn it into the new Tales of The City. Ha ha, I could die alone too.
I'm wondering how rude I was to those Sydney HR scrags yesterday? I don't think I was, no, not at all, but they hold some sort of strange gypsy curse over the finance team managers who never seem to be able to stand up to them, always crumbling under any duress sprayed at us from that team of mingers. It is very strange. Even the Big Pooh seems to cave into to the Horrible Reprobates.
Anyway, as I've said, I don't care.
First day off, and my gym day. I have to put it in my head some hours before I go, so as to will myself up off the couch and into shorts and out the door. That percolation of will has about another hour to bubble away inside me before the requisite pressure has built up in me to propel me out the door.
So, until then, lets see how many other AI images I can generate?
10.45am. I go to the gym.
Which reminds me, Tuesday I went to the gym. I was talking to Boris just before I left 10.30am'ish and I mentioned to her that I was up to date and that I was going to the gym for an hour.
She laughed like me going to the gym was incredulous.
Bitch, I thought.
She's also not coping with everything at the moment and maybe she laughed because she thought it was too much for me to go to the gym during work hours when she was feeling like she is going under.
That could also be it.
But, girl, that's why I stopped doing the manager's job as soon as I could afford to do so, years ago.
Be the manager, it's your choice.
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