why is it that anytime I actually have time and a plan to do something, something else gets in the way? I came home from work and saw my editor had gone through half a bottle of burbon. At first he was rather happy with himself, and though I'm a little irritated, I was happy to see him. Things quickly changed when his stomach decided that it no longer wanted to contain its contents, and he spent the next several hours puking. He's asleep now, and is doing much better.
I'm probably going to join him in a few. I'm pretty tired myself.
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