Three more weeks.

18 more days.

If I get through them, I've secured my family's ability to eat through 2016 at least, by which point, according to the projections, the birth center will have been profitable for three months (and that includes my wife's salary as an expense).

We've settled into a routine that involves very little work for me, which is fine. Things are still chaotic enough that I had to un-mic and re-mic and un-mic and re-mic and un-mic and re-mic four people in the space of ten minutes yesterday because those who decide can't decide worth a shit. None of our cast has left in an ambulance for about a week now so that's nice.

I'm ready to start thinking beyond. Like, I'm bloody well decking out the garage. There will be pegboard. There will be better lighting. There will be a chipper, there will be a pressure washer, there will be a hedge trimmer. I have earned these things. I am eager to return my home to some semblance of presentable, having been rode hard and put away wet by seven years of tenants.

Theoretically, I have also sold my last, great, thermonuclear Todd-Soundelux prize, the fully-loaded Lantana System 6000. I say theoretically because while I accepted the guy's offer and sent him an invoice, he has yet to cough up the cash. This is good as I need to build a new rig to mix a feature I have on deck for the new year. Right now, it's looking like I'm going back to PC for the first time since 2002. PC nerds, tell me how much of a premium I'm paying for one of these. They're built by someone I know from the Pro Tools beta and I'll probably go that way just to get my feet wet since I haven't much fucked with PC since XPSP3.

I'm off this mountain the evening of the 22nd. The afternoon of the 23rd I have an hour and a half massage booked. Think I may also go for a salt scrub and a righteous dinner. I know that there will be a very nice bottle of scotch at the end of the rainbow.