What is it about working at night that screws up my regular behavior patterns so badly?
Breakfast today: cheesy poofs. Lunch: Samich and a handful of cherries. Dinner tonight: cheesy poofs and coffee. Meals 1 and 3 do not qualify as either healthy or nutritious, dammit.
And to throw battery acid into the abrasion, my muse just poked her head out from whatever hole she's been lurking in and I've got an idea/concept for a story I really want to write. And instead, I'm here, verifying test data and researching errors for the next four hours. Fuck. She'll probably give me the finger and run off to whatever oubliette she's been sulking in by the time I get off. Fuckity fuck.
There is much suckitude afoot tonight.