I single-handedly moved about three tons of bricks, rocks, iron scraps, dirt, and other shit today for a neighbor who's selling his house and needs the yard cleaned up. Tomorrow I'm moving more shit out of his toolshed. I get paid pretty well for being insane.

My summer seems to have gone from being excrutiatingly boring to incredibly busy; all the grunt work I'm doing for people (mowing lawns, doing assorted landscaping projects, breaking a big hole in my driveway with a sledgehammer) is enabling me to pay 40 bucks a week for the modeling classes, and I don't owe my mother any more money. Monday, I've got my neighbors' 35th wedding anniversary to cater for, and between yardwork this weekend, I have to devise a sauce from scratch, decide on a chocolate pastry to serve for dessert, and learn how to make veal scallopini. I've also got to shop for numerous expensive ingredients. And I'm getting paid for it all. Imagine that--I don't really think of it as work.