James McCullough

My daughter, the gambler. Last night at White Spot: Her: I bet you 5 cents that the bill will be $30 Bill was $32 Her: You owe me 5 cents! Me: I’ll deduct it from what you owe me for buying you supper. Her: I don’t owe you.

Hitting up the Penticton farmers market for a change of pace and an attempt to get away from the craziness of my mind.

Everything in life right now is such a battle for me and it’s exhausting. I wish I could make some small wins happen.

Now that the whisky is sinking into me, a few meandering thoughts. * it’s annoying when my ex interjects into the conversation I’m having with my daughter on the phone. * it feels good when doing something that you know is the right thing to do, but others have doubts,

Another quick late night thought (after drinks): what would late night Twitter be like without autocorrect? Would we understand each other, or would we be leaving messages that would need deciphering? Also, do thoughts make more or less sense when you’ve been drinking?

My daughter, the gambler. Last night at White Spot: Her: I bet you 5 cents that the bill will be $30 Bill was $32 Her: You owe me 5 cents! Me: I’ll deduct it from what you owe me for buying you supper. Her: I don’t owe you.

Hitting up the Penticton farmers market for a change of pace and an attempt to get away from the craziness of my mind.

Everything in life right now is such a battle for me and it’s exhausting. I wish I could make some small wins happen.

Stepped downstairs to grab a coffee and overheard two separate couples talking about the problems they had with AirBnB renters last night. People were kicked out for smoking, noise, etc. Centre of Gravity folks paying $400/night. Glad I didn’t have to deal with those problems.

I hate those nights where I feel like I should be doing something more than just scrolling through feeds, but not have any motivation to bother doing something else.