I've Swallowed The Little Book of Calm.

The Shanghai book will take years to get published. My vague contract-based job offer seems bound to go nowhere. I still haven't got James a birthday present. I'm ill, but I can't afford not to work. I hate my job. (Actually, that's not true, I just hate all the customers.) I'm not in China. The electricity bill is due. At this rate, Nacthmusik 2, Terrorism and Ex Libris are never going to get made. I barely spend any time at home.

Bloody hell.