Where Is My Red Box?

Welcome to hell week. I don't know if mine is just early, but hell yeah! This week is hell week.

My romantic relationship with sleep seems to soar away, together with my passionate connection with my bed. I miss them. They miss me. I have an affair with my pillows, believe me or not. They keep me warm. They maintain my comfort. But right now, all I see are papers piled up on top of the other. They snigger politely. An explicit manifestation of despotism ladies and gentlemen.

Browsing on them gives me a fractious sensitivity that I might not accomplish anything. However, my hands inadvertently work. They shudder on the process. The papers laugh vicariously.

Right no, I am sulking.

I miss my wichan.