bitch bitch bitch

Ugh. Hit in head with hammer. Congestion both in my head and on my floor; looking behind me makes me claustrophobic. Up from nap not happily so. Apartment still empty, gaping void of cardboard cutouts and nautical merchandise. It works, though. Adrift am I and if I were to grab the oar and wheel off the wall would it help? Doubtful.

Much to do much to write and I don't want to do any of it. Away messages tell me there will be partying here tonight. Social for a bit, then huddled in here will I be. Clean then work. Right then write.

That's the plan, at least.

Coffee will most likely be dispatched to my system at some point during that process.