All right, if you don't have your articles in for the paper, get them in. It's going into its first edition a week from Monday, and I'll be tracking you all down and opening your brains.
I'm a workaholic. I know it. I've been pulling double shifts at the Round Table-- if anyone wants a job, we're so understaffed I think we'd hire a primate-- and working late on the newspaper. Still thinking about the play.
And I think I'm getting sick again... but I can't think like that. Thinking positive wards off viruses. It's not medically proven or anything. But it's... look, it's all I've got right now, okay?
I just think I'm running myself ragged. I'm exhausted... cranky, even. I'm not acting like myself. It's like I can't quite think clearly and I've been having weird dreams. (Not like WEIRD weird dreams, not like... those kind people were having a few months back... but weird ones nonetheless).
I feel awful for anyone who has to deal with me.