My tooth is effing killing me. I'm going to the hospital tomorrow to beg them to do something about it. Pull it. Give me morphine. Anything. I've swallowed a ton of this oragel stuff, and it's starting to give me cramps. Plus, I'm pretty sure my kidneys are going to shut down if I take any more Tylenol. I've been waking up with a fever the past few days... I had hoped it was because of flu or something, but now I just think my tooth is infected.
What else? It's ten to four, so I should probably actually start working on the night audit. I've been writing. I'm at 11212 words for NaNoWriMo now, which is pretty good, considering that it's only the third and it's not even four am. I'm past the neccessary word count for day six. :) This story is turning out to be a lot darker, a lot less happy-go-lucky fluffy, than I originally planned. Also, if anyone's wondering, when you're sick, in pain, missing someone more than you thought humanly possible and your job doesn't let you see the sun, researching actual suicide notes online then going home and listening to Leona Lewis is a really, really dumb idea. Just sayin'.
I cleaned my room today. It took a lot of hours and my kitchen and the other room in my apartment (I picked the lock because the temp. control is in there and I was melting) are still piled with clothes and random junk, but I'm slowly sorting through it. My room looks pretty good, actually. A random fun fact: I have a really nice queen bed with lots of fluffy blankets and a synthetic down comforter and three pillows. I actually made my bed today - and I am sleeping on my smelly, second (third, fourth?)-hand love seat, with the Freddy Krugar blanket (just a blanket that someone hacked up for reasons unknown). Gah. My bed is just too big, now that I've taken the piles of clothes away.
OK. Actual work time. Maybe. In a minute.
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