In which the diarist yet again invokes a Higher Power.

Dear spooky invisible voyueristic pervert angelghostalienmonsterrightbrainhigherselfwhatevers,

Tomorrow is market day. Make me sell things pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeease? I want some money to happen. And make it be a nice day, not too hot but without loads of wind or rain.

Or I'll go evil. Really evil. With all tentacles and stuff.

Thankyou.