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Yesterday was the 16th and there were sixteen days left until November 1st. Today is the 17th and there are fifteen days left. It’s a wonderful mathematical kind of thing. I’m not a math person, by the way. Even long division looks like complex mathematics to me.
You may wonder why I’m obsessing over the amount of days left until November 1st. If you are wondering then it’s kind of silly of you because that’s the entire idea behind writing these things. It’s exciting watching the countdown because I am running out of things to talk about. The sooner November gets here the sooner I can start freaking about writing a novel in a month.
In addition to that, my birthday is in November. Many people try and avoid their birthday. It’s become hip to ignore it and act like it doesn’t matter. The whole, “one year closer to death” thing, I guess. But for me, my birthday is my day. It’s all about me! Which is a damn shame considering I’m completely alone. If I were smart I would ignore my birthday. I certainly wouldn’t do what I did a couple of years ago which was to shame forty candles in a cupcake and then light it up. It was amusing in that the birds started making smoke alarm noises but, more to the point, it was kind of sad. 
So speeding towards that day and then sliding right past it sounds like a pretty good idea. Being alone and possibly unemployed also means plenty of good, quality, writing time. I could wake up, roll into the chair, and start typing away! Like a mad man! Insanity.

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