Worn Out

I'm whipped.

Part of it has to do with school--I feel like a hamster on a wheel lately, working and working and working and not seeming to get much of anywhere. My writing life is resting quietly by the wall, slowly being overtaken by mental kudzu. There's a novel in there, but if I don't get out the machete soon, it'll get eaten alive. On top of that, crazy people are calling my house late at night (long story involving someone I love dearly and someone she divorced, who's nuts and a drunk), so no sleep for me. No good sleep, anyway.

Two killer headaches in a row, last night and this morning, and a stack of crap to grade I don't feel like looking at, and a living room that's still full of useless toys from my son's room and no molding, and I'm done. Toast. Over. Ready for a vacation. Or a massage. Or something.

On the plus side, I bought myself an iPod off eBay last night--early birthday present for me! It's Blossom-the-Powerpuff-Girl pink. Girly, I know. Don't care. Besides, I'm in such a foul mood right now, I'd probably go Powerpuff Girl on someone's ass for saying something snippy about it.

Comfort food. Now. Must. East. Pasta.