I feel sad and lonely like a golf ball on a giant fairway.

I feel empty like the glass next to me. All drunken.

I feel tiny. Like a bull in china shop.

I am Plume's swinging mood.

Work went fine. Finished the flyer, more or less. Started work on the poster. Things are progressing exactly like they should, only I am very tired.

Called the optician. Got satisfactory answers to my prodding questions. One of these days I should get new glasses. Fat lot of good it'll do, but I need it. I am scared, but it must be done. I don't like changes, I don't like life altering decisions. I don't like buying a face that must last me for years. I am not a bubble gum pop artist, I am not comfortable with reinventing myself.

I am Plume's bedtime.

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