In which I am not dead, nor am I dying

I am, however, having foolishly agreed to help one of my co-workers out by switching schedules with him this week, about to embark on an eight-day stand at work– which will involve no less than five eleven-hour shifts.

Things may be quiet around here for a bit, is what I’m saying, and that’s without counting the paralyzing depression that will be setting in on Friday.

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