Seeing the bonus post from last night is like seeing your mistakes written down and posted on the internet. Maybe because that's exactly what it is. I usually leave the bitching about hangovers to DP, but I can barely delete spam emails right now. The only thing that makes me feel better is the freezing air of outside, so I periodically go to the end of the hall at my office and hang out of the fire exit door. I want to live out there right now. I want to put a cot there and have emails printed and handed to me, so I can dictate my replies and have them sent by the pigeons which shall roost in the shadow of my fire escape cot. And ice water. That would be the ideal existence for me right now. It feels like my brain is swollen and on fire and on trial for crimes it did commit.
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