Around midnight I ended up calling in Old McDonald who was very grumpy that I woke him up. He proceeded to scrub up and pull out two dead lambs. One only had two legs, and it smelled like it had been dead for a few days. If it hadn't been so ripe I would have done an autopsy to see what was going on inside this two-legged lamb. Homozygous recessive something-or-other? Interesting. Monstrous.

The ewe was exhausted. Shaking.

And this experience solidified my latest revelation: The worse a situation seems at the time, the better story it will make later.

I think things are going to be ok with Miss "I hate you because you went to my ex's party". We had a good talk yesterday. Still haven't seen her, but I'm just too overworked. I need to quit working at the lab. But my boss wants every single hour he can from me until I'm let go. His projects are dependant on my labour.

Arts County line-up sucks. How many times have we all seen 54-40??? Sheesh. Oh well, it's not like I ever remember the bands anyhow.

And I can still feel his hand on my waist, and that gets me though. 2 months to freedom. 2 months.