Too cold. Too tired.

Raisin bran, hot water with lemon.

On time again.

This football stuff really stinks. Really, really, really stinks.

Oh yes. Today is the day.

No more privacy.

I read it and then can’t focus. But I should probably just be moving more slowly anyway.

I start daydreaming about laying on the floor underneath my desk and taking a nap like George Constanza.

Oh boy. Emotions.

The reason this works is because we both have the same philosophies and I couldn’t be happier.