For so long I've said,
"I can't believe it's already February (or whatever month); I don't know where the time went!"

When I actually know where it's gone. Down the toilet. Or more accurately, I flushed it down the toilet.

At my last thankless job, as soon as Monday hit, people counted the hours for Friday to roll around. And Saturday would come and before you could enjoy the taste of freedom, the Sunday Blues beat you into submission and the cycle would start at sunrise. It was a sad way to squander my time, but it was the only way to cope.

I crossed off days on a calendar like an inmate waiting parole; now that I'm out, I couldn't be more careful about paying attention to the passage of time.

Boy, was I ever paying attention this month. Every day, I was aware of what I was doing and how I was spending my time. I'm no longer hiding in the woods, waiting for the cavalry to ride through. And it's not a neurotic, nervous, paying attention, but instead, a "I don't want to miss a thing because I'm so excited" kind of paying attention.

I've always been great at making lists, but this year it's become my religion. I carry around this big-ass notebook with my grand schemes written down in detail. There's list after list of things that I plan to accomplish each day - next month - in life.

In it, I've noted to go to my studio and write in solitude (which always includes Bootsie C.) And I've gone every weekend with my thermos.

And last week I visited our very beautiful City Hall to make something official with the city, just like everybody else. I was initially going there to pick up forms, but I ended up renewing my business registration on the spot. It was all very easy. Each step of the process was "across the hall" so I started in one corner and ended up walking a perfect square inside the building; There was a a father and son closing their business, a woman applying for a liquor license and at least four couples making their nuptials official.

The next day my new business cards arrived...and they were so handsome, they made me blush.

It was the most terrifying frontier. I felt like Daniel Boone whacking his way through 18th century Appalachia. There were domain names, DNS servers, inboxes and IP addresses that made no sense to me. Yet I've been paying hundreds of dollars for years to "maintain" it. My web-server and the cluster-fuck that it represents is my digital equivalent of the most horrific episode of Hoarders.

It's been a thorn in my side forever; the tangled gold chain in my jewelry box that I've been pushing aside, because the thought of untangling was beyond comprehension. And since the value of gold is up I can't toss it, but it just sits there, continuing to be annoying, undervalued and unappreciated. Well, hand me my coonskin cap and bowie knife, I'm ready to conquer this wilderness.

But the most amazing feat this month came yesterday by way of a letter from Japan. My father kindly forwarded me the permission he obtained from the surviving grandson of my main character, Lafcadio, allowing me to write my screenplay about his grandfather. It's quite a responsibility. And I plan to do his fascinating story justice if that's the first and last thing on my list this year.

This little piggie is ready for February.