I'm still up because there is no god, but also a little because at some point in the evening, I was like, "You know what sounds tasty? Sugar." But anyway, I managed to tear myself away from the sugar and spinach dip (I'm like a fucking crack addict with the spinach dip) long enough to post this, mostly in honor of a very special person who asked me to write more, but also because the ice cream is out in the garage fridge and it's way too scary to go out there and get some. I should move everything except for, like, celery and diet coke out to the garage and I'd lose a million pounds. Fuck Weight Watchers, the best diet is FEAR.

Anyway, I had intended on working on short fiction pieces to submit to publications that accept that kind of thing, but now I have a REALLY good idea for a much longer (as in, this could turn into a series) piece. I love/hate the word "piece". I hate it but I seem to just love love LOVE using it. I'm tired and I have to get up in a while and give a cat an IV drip. That cat is getting a raw deal. I should ask my vet to move in with me. I don't care if she's married, I can love her better because the bond forged by giving a cat subcutaneous fluids is a special one indeed.