Uber stressed
I'm stressed. Stressed to the point of twanging like a human harp - except without the nice chilled music.
Another 48 hours will see me either beamishly copacetic, or in a damn nut house. I Pray (or I would if I wasn't agnostic) it's the former ... 'cause I've never really fancied a straight jacket. Too dashed uncomfortable, don't you know.
Pshaw.
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