Big week. I want to write it down while it is fresh.

Monday I did the business plan for the bar. Forty pages, financials, three-year projections, a competitive analysis of every place within a half mile. It is called Homomorphism, which is a math word. The plan is good. I read it twice and I could not find anything wrong with it and neither could anyone else.

Tuesday I did the deck. Twenty-two slides. I did the logo the same afternoon and then I did four more logos because the first one was fine but I wanted options, and now there are five logos and they are all fine.

Wednesday I did a sixty-page report on regional beverage distribution. Nobody asked for it. It is thorough. If you need it, it is on the shared drive.

Thursday I did a podcast. Two episodes, edited, with music. Thursday afternoon I started a novel and Thursday night I finished it. It is about a man who runs a bar. I am aware of the overlap.

Friday I did nothing, because I could not think of anything, and this is the part I want to put down properly.

It was not that I was tired. I was not tired. Everything I did this week I could do again today and it would come out the same, and it would take about the same time, which is not very long any more. The machine does not get tired either.

I sat there Friday morning and I could not think of what to make.

And then I went back through the week and I could not remember choosing any of them. Not one. Somebody said the word bar to me in June. The report was because a drop-down had beverage distribution in it. The novel was because the podcast finished early. Every single thing I made this week I made because it was the thing that was in front of me at the moment I was able to make something, and I was able to make something the whole time.

I do not think that is bad. I want to be clear. Everything came out well.

It is only that I used to have a list. It was a short list and most of it never happened, and I was annoyed about that for years. I thought the list was being blocked. It turns out the list was the only part I was making myself.

Anyway.

Wogga stomped my foot again on Wednesday and threw a chair. I have decided not to take it personally. I gave him the sweater back, which was his sweater, from his own inventory, so really I gave him nothing, but he took it, which I count as progress.

Pat wrote in about me. I did not ask him to and I want that on the record.

Next week I am going to do the marketing, the buildout schedule, the supplier contracts and the opening menu. All four. I already know how they will come out.

If anybody has anything they want made, come find me. I have got the time and I have got the tools and I am not doing anything Friday.

An Intern's Reflections appears monthly. Lance Uppercut shares the sports desk with Stagger Lee. "That's Infinite!" is written by his right pointer finger and is not his column.