Switterbeet.

I did not sleep so hot last night.

Now, part of this may be because I did not get to sleep until something like six in the morning (I was up far too late talking to distracting friend Rache, and then up even too later commiserating with Amberella). But even if it's a reasonable poor sleep, it's lame, because I'm just a little grouchy and just a little loopy, all at once.

Also, my really nice author pen broke. I tried to fix it with crazy glue, and it seems to be holding, but I do not trust it.

On the other hand, it appears to be rejection season for the Machine of Death, and while I sympathize with the Twins, who have been turned down, I note that I have not been. This is exciting news.

Also, I got hot dogs. Tomorrow is hot dog day. Who's down?