|"That Terribly Slow Crashing Trick Which Arctic Ice-Floes Do So Spectacularly In The Spring."
||[Feb. 28th, 2008|01:44 am]
I found somethiing hidden in my apartment. Pretty well hidden, in fact, but I've been having fits of paranoia, lately - ever since that Very Nasty Incident In Kosovo - and they're pretty rough. One minute, you're looking at the ceiling molding thinking it needs dusting, the next minute, you're pulling up the carpet and dissembling the light fixtures.
So, yeah, the thing I found... It's just a couple of pages of onionskin, covered in handwriting - my handwriting. At least, it looks like mine. But I don't remember writing it. To be honest, that's not all that surprising. But this still falls under the category of Definitely Not Good.
I can't afford to fuck around. I've called The Boss and told all. I'm hoping he can clear things up.
But, right now, I've got a stinking migraine. No doubt from decrypting my chickenscratch. I'm going to give myself a shot and go to bed for a few hours. With luck, everything will be clear by morning.