(no subject)

Dear customers: Please to be starting with the making of the sense now? My brain is hurting and I want it to stop. Love, Melle. (P.S.: And stop getting click happy before I come over there and braek your fingers, damn you all!)

Started out the day by droping my labret and then being unable to find it, and then I came into work to find incoherence in my inbox, and augh. I need a cigarette. And more coffee. And a hug. Sob.

I think I'm going to tackle these e-mails, and then hide in writing for the rest of the day. At least fiction makes sense.