I have been trying to structure my time better, since I get depressed when I don't plan. Pants get tossed all over my sentences, food grime builds up on my words, and I have to pay more per letter. If I could only manage to sleep at work, my collar would slide off. My tea is cooling before I can drink it, and my stomach is probably too floppy anyway, but later I have Lyly and Pullman. Too bad my dry wall is bleeding.