Now as a result of the aborted cajun-pringle-eating my fingers smell kind of like chicken soup stock.
Also, I will note that the drive to work, in the dark, is hypnotizing, and completely dangerous. My eyes were totally closing... I dread daylight savings, when the mornings going home will be a dark drive too.
This morning I sat down, sorted photos, ate half a failed attempt at a toaster-oven quesadilla, drank beer, and watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. The photos were from 1996-1998. This includes the glut of my vampire-larping history, Rob time, and getting out of college and into my first job. It was a nice little nostalgia trip into a time I haven't wanted to think about.
Oh, I'd go on, but I have to deal with an irate, clueless sales engineer.