Euphoria to Despair, all aboard please

Good morning!
Bosslady was actually nice this morning!
I have a deadline.
My bag broke.
Um.
4 hours sleep... let's see how today goes.

There are many things on my mind. I would like to write about them. Instead I have found myself writing little sketches. And buying poetry magazines. Why fume in despair when you can be high on dreams?

(no subject)

*insert incoherent exhaustion+caffine fuelled ramble sbout how sexy motorbikes are and how naff office work is and how I am not impulse buying and really need to get this letter written and then repeat with greater emphasis on the difficutly one has writing when so very wired on nothing*