I must go to bed immediately if I'm to accomplish the impossible dream of getting eight and a half hours to sleep tonight and still being able to write before work. Today was good, albeit odd; it started with an ultrasound to rule out any other abdominal causes for my general stomach woes (verdict: they didn't find anything, which I take to mean that they didn't find anything abnormal and not that they failed to find any organs in my belly). So I left covered in gel and debating what other causes could explain my issues (options: hypochondria, general craziness, stress, exotic parasites, some food intolerance beyond gluten which will require a lot of annoying experimentation). I pondered that question while eating a late breakfast at Joanie's; I should have gone straight to the office, but I hadn't been able to eat or drink anything before the ultrasound and was totally starving, and work wasn't serving food at the time I would have gotten back to campus. And Joanie's took less than 30mins since it was early in the morning, and it was a much-welcomed break.
After that, I went to the office and slogged relentlessly for several hours. After my last meeting of the day, I took thirty minutes to get a latte and sit in the sun, and then I slogged for another hour or two before calling it and driving home. When I got here, I thought about working, but instead I did some laundry, made some chili, and talked to Terry. And now I'm going to sleep and hopefully dream of Thorington - I think I figured out a major plot issue while sitting in the sun with my latte, and I hope that realization survives the cold light of dawn. Goodnight!
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