It's Not as Late as I Think it Is.
But it feels late. It's dark outside.
I'm utterly inundated with work. Or, at least, I feel I am. I sort of like it: enough to keep me constantly busy, but not so much I feel like breaking down.
I need to go home and eat... I shall do so shortly. But there's something else I need to do. I don't know what. I may have done it already. I may have realised I can't do it (I'm very smart, but I'm not at all organised).
Right. I'm off. I won't be posting that often this year (this, I think, being the main reason for the post - and 2/3rds of the way through, it seems: I have fantastic narrative sense, do I not?); fortunately Kate has the password to the account, so'll keep it busy. I like reading her posts, they're very... something. I don't know.
G'bye.
-James
I'm utterly inundated with work. Or, at least, I feel I am. I sort of like it: enough to keep me constantly busy, but not so much I feel like breaking down.
I need to go home and eat... I shall do so shortly. But there's something else I need to do. I don't know what. I may have done it already. I may have realised I can't do it (I'm very smart, but I'm not at all organised).
Right. I'm off. I won't be posting that often this year (this, I think, being the main reason for the post - and 2/3rds of the way through, it seems: I have fantastic narrative sense, do I not?); fortunately Kate has the password to the account, so'll keep it busy. I like reading her posts, they're very... something. I don't know.
G'bye.
-James