I worked 40 hours (a full work week) in a 48-hour period. And then I worked some more.
I got badly sunburned. People are not kind. I've been told I look more well done than a steak. I've also been told I match my (red) car. The jokes about how I must have spent my week kicking back on the beach are just not funny.
I went out to dinner with a guy last night and told him my uterus is dying. He asked me to put that on the blog.
I got an email from someone named Sparkle. It wasn't a joke, nor was it porn.
I've confirmed that being hugged, really truly hugged, is almost as necessary to my sanity as having food and water.