It's after 11 am, I've been typing for almost three hours and my arms feel like they were fashioned from wet pasta.
Most of the week I wait impatiently for the weekend when I can sit down at my computer and type until I'm exhausted such as I am now.
My only real problem lies in the fact that I have tons more to type from my notes and what I've typed so far, although not garbage, is in need of tons of revising. I think I hopped a few heads over the past couple of hours as much as I hate to admit it.
I do believe I need a long hot shower, a cup of tea and a massage at the hands of a dangerously sexy man willing to paint my toes.