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My dad fell and got a nasty cut requiring stitches and a visit to the ER yesterday, so I've been more wired than usual. He's all right; I'm just naturally restless.

I should go to sleep now, though; it's a quarter to eight in the morning and I'm starting to have waking dreams about Vince Gilligan pounding on my door. I would tell him that I'm just a viewer, and that I don't know how to solve all his writing problems, but that you don't have your worst enemy park his car directly outside your central headquarters and then never bother checking the trunk.

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tsunderekko
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