Dear Diary;
Dying to know how the meetings are going. Feeling so out of touch! Yesterday I asked Rafaello, the custode who cleans my rooms, to use his connections and find out what’s been happening. Well, I think he got a bit over zealous because he left yesterday morning with one of my old vestments under his arm and I haven’t heard anything since. Except on the news. So I handed my personal Visa to Father DiSantis, who will post bail for him this morning. Stupid fuck, doesn’t he know that cardinals don’t wear Fedoras?!

Meanwhile, the coffee in this place sucks donkey balls. I’d commit a mortal sin for a mocha Frappuccino…