Didn’t sleep terribly well, and probably not just because of dreams of role-playing boardgames with most of the pieces (except the undead ones) missing–I’ve gone back to a college lifestyle in many ways, with the strange hours, but much less whiskey–it’s this lack of deadlines that has been the adjustment, the lack of a routine, which has let my fingernails grow back. It’s strange having no fucking formal responsibilities, just the ones I choose–and I don’t function well with that amorphousness–I’m not good with making plans, I hate following recipes to the letter–somehow, and this ought to have been the title, I fancy myself with a certain slapdash omnicompetence. Sure, I write drafts and all, but the best stuff is all off the cuff, immediate: just get it done.