My synapses are practicing Browning motion.
I slept...yesterday. I think.
It must have been yesterday; I'd be seeing wall-roaches if it had been more than 30 hours.
Insomnia gave way to, "Fuck, I am SO not sleeping now or my sleep schedule will be even MORE b0rked, where the HELL is my coffeh" at about 4am, and so here I am with my caffeine-knotted stomach and hands and feet slowly turning to blocks of ice, trying to figure out what I can fill the rest of my day with that won't result in accidental maiming or self-immolation.
The ability to end sentences gives out at about the 20 hour mark, could you tell?
Actually, scratch that, I'm never good at ending sentences.
One sec -- I think I saw something on the wall.