So I have a couch of sorts, which is more of a trundle bed, the sort of gift forced upon me, which I must bear, thanks to my Greek landlord, who blazed through the apartment today in an attempt to secure from Neill, face-to-face, a promise that he will pay the rent by the end of the week. This was all rather amusing, as we were caught off guard, so we were both dressed all gay-like, in clothes way too tight for our own good. But I think our landlord's still a little clueless on this count.

With that taken care of, I should just be able to run off and do whatever I want with my day, but I have little energy to accomplish anything beyond maybe some more light lifting and some paperwork--taxes and perfunctory paper assignments.