Total Exhaustion.

Oh...my...god, am I tired. I have been trapped at Eviljob for the past forty-eight hours.

Bwaah!

I just counted...*over* forty-eight hours. Fuckaduck.

I love the smell of crisis over the week-end. It's the smell of victory.

Someone come over here with some acetone and a spatula and peel my ill-chosen high heels off my feet.

Ow.

I just wanted to tell someone how tired I am. And my hands hurt. And my feet. And my brain.

If I can wake up tomorrow, I am going to go buy myself something special for having made it.

But my point is I live, and right now in an ok sort of way. For a brief moment. ;-)

g'night.

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