I'm more than a little distraught to see a small crack forming on the soundboard of my harpsichord; I've had it three years now, have never had to be careful about humidity ever, and after only one week in this (admittedly overheated) apartment, a 6-millimetre-thick slice of wood that has withstood twenty-five winters is broken. It doesn't affect the sound. It's just a sign of moral collapse, a mistake which I will only ever have to make once in my life. [For those wondering: harpsichords dry out in central heating; the remedy is more or less constant humidification.]
I have had several glasses of beer tonight
I whipped out the old electronic ba-gua on my new room, and sure enough the corner most inaccessible and worst-arranged is that dedicated to "relationships". This corner is also where my 'useless closet' is located; a tiny triangular cupboard cut out of the room and provided with a door, no use for anything of any size. I hung my purple lei on the doorknob, tidied the area a bit. This is also where I set the humidifier for the harpsichord.
This is the week I will find another job.