Happy Holidays. Piss off.

Jey-sus.

Fagged and fucked I am. Work: hellacious. In-laws: love 'em to death, but 12 days is 12 days. My arteries, liver and bank account look forward to their departure tomorrow. NaNo: one sentence achieved at work, 29 days and 49,990-odd words to go. Holidays: hard to feel the season when it'll be approaching 60 all week and our account will be under 60 all month. Rah. And bah.