4:33 in the morning AGAIN.
Headache to beat the butcher's wife.
Better mental space today. Physical space, not so much.
Keynote of the day: just because something can be done does not mean it should be done.
The headache this morning blossomed into a near-nuclear event which laid me waste until after 10:00. Industrial-strength decongestants and enough ibuprofen to make a horse loopy, and I'm able to function at a rudimentary level, meaning I can spell things like rudimentary. I'm pretty good, but for the nausea.
Bould, boulder, bouldest.
Could, coulder, couldest.
Should, Shoulder, Shouldest.
This heavy expensive thing is up high. I don't like heavy expensive thing up high. I shall make heavy expensive thing down low.
Sound of heavy expensive thing falling made loud noise, which was scary. I shall vomit on heavy expensive thing and let it know who is boss.
It is Cat Law.
I can think of a lot of things that I'd rather be doing than what I'm doing at work right now.
Most of them involve adventurous scantily-clad college girls and quantities of booze.
Note: this statement is generic enough that it can be inserted just about anywhere at any time.
Jungle Mary Bang Bang tonight. It's good and good for you.
Plus I need to walk the dog tonight and get some exercise myself. I was doing some ballet stretches last night (quit laughing, I'm quite graceful when I want to be. I said QUIT LAUGHING!) and discovered that while I'm out of practice stretching, I'm actually in better muscular shape than I thought.
Feeling lonely. No big surprise there.