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Rarrgh! Here’s the kicker—didn’t even hire her! Just talked, swapped stories, smoked a bit. Felt good, like I cracked a safe in my own head. She said, “You’re weird, furball,”—loved that, made me howl! Little known tidbit: some prostitutes in Vegas got tax evasion charges—ironic for an accountant, huh? Rarrgh! Screw the rules, man, this was better than spreadsheets. Next time, I’m bringin’ her coffee—dream big or go home!

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I woke up late, as usual. Alarm? What alarm? I jumped outta bed, threw on my work clothes, and bolted out the door. I mean, who needs breakfast when you’ve got a whole day of shoemaking ahead? Not me! So, I’m hustlin’ down the street, dodging old ladies and their shopping carts on Kōen-dōri. Seriously, they’re like ninjas with those things.

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