John and Bill said I could leave once I'd conquered airports. Several thousand mutters, a few curse words and three hours later, I'm at my parents' packing up Wish3 to mail out on my way home. And I have just a few very overdue orders I at *least* want to print up transfers for. Just a few more. Just a little bit longer.
Stomach feels decidedly uncomfortable, and I think I need to go force some food past the flaming tunnel masquerading as my throat.
Another hour. An hour of EMG work, and then I can go die at home. That'll get me very nicely caught up, and I can go die.
Just a little bit longer.
I think I'll call in sick tomorrow. They'll probably have anneurysms (however you spell that) at work because there are so many crucial projects going out, but I couldn't care less right now.
Just a little bit longer, and then I can go die.