We got sent home from work today because it was so hot in the office that one of my coworkers developed a migraine.
It is OCTOBER tomorrow.
Anywhelp, I have spent most of the day watching spies in my brain, and writing about spies having breakdowns, and it is one month until my birthday, when I turn twenty nine, and then I get to spend an entire year having a freakout about turning thirty.
Here is my wishlist onto which I have thrust random crap. Of course if you can instead mail me large quantities of prescription painkillers with an opiate base or some diazepam I will like you much better than if you buy me Lego storage bricks.
My plans for celebrating this year are basically non-existent. I don't have the first idea. I may just sit around and cry.