April 19/Referral. Lunch. Catastrophe.

Klaus sent me a referral. He does this the way other people lend you a pen — no fanfare, no expectation of return, as if it costs him nothing, which for Klaus it probably doesn't.

Small design agency in Prenzlauer Berg. Seven people. 'They're a mess,' he said. 'Filing, billing, everything. I told them you sort that out.' Then: 'You do sort that out, right?'

I said yes. I have not sorted anything out yet. I have a Founder's Notebook and a cold-email template my wife compared to a gas engineer.

I called the agency. Spoke to a woman named Jana who sounded like someone already drowning in something she didn't have time to name. She agreed to a meeting Thursday. I wrote it in the notebook in capitals and then started worrying about what I'd say.

My mother called to ask if I'd 'found anything.' I said I had a meeting. She asked if it was a job interview. I said not exactly. She said she'd light a candle. I think she's running low.