Over the course of three hours, life, time, and muscle tone will change. Very slightly.

Coming soon to a blog/diary/journal/webblog/chalkboard/interactive thing, the saga of printing a poster using a purchasing card--no actually petty cash, no actually a recquisition form, no actually...

If you read one entry in triplicate this spring...you should just buy the DVD.

* * *

I have to wake up at 5:30. In the morning. Tomorrow.

God has temporarily been disconnected and is no longer in service. If I have reached this life path in error, please check the number and try again.

There is a demon with 13 mouths of 13 rows of teeth cackling madly in some nether-reach of That-Location-Which Cannot-Be-Named-Ok-It's-Somewhere.

Tomorrow is an unholy day. Not since the Age of Dr. Zivago have I braved the barren wasteland of morning. Not just ass-early morning. Annoying peppy jogger ass-early morning.

There will be coffee. And pain. I think the pain is sugar-glazed. Maybe chocolate-filled.

I'm so exhausted from today's adventure that I think I can con myself into sleep. I'm setting my phone alarm just in case, so please and please again: do not call me tonight or this morning. I love ya, but you know who you are. I love you too, but not you. We're talking 3-4am person. Yes, you. Love you, but no call. Please. Gods/Goddesses/Thingies bless.

* * *

Tonight I'd wanted to drink at the Infero. But the spirit for an all-nighter ain't there.

However, Post-Doc suggested I clear my friday night up until my 5am on saturday. What is that devilishly clever woman up to...

I shall know soon. Or I'll suddenly wake up in someone's trunk and have random conversations with voices until we arrive at an interesting destination.

Either way.

...

My current plans have been interrupted by someone playing the bagpipes outside of my apartment. I'm. Going to floss, and perhaps like a mosquito it will have swooshed away or something.

...

Yay, it swooshed.

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