Some days feel like they will never end...

... And invariably, they always do.
But there's always tomorrow to ruin. (Which is invariably what I suspect Scarlett really meant with her "Tomorrow is another day" comment.)

Am so tired. Exhausted. Feet feel like I've been walking on marbles all day.

Stopped by old place of work, and was dismayed to see the atmosphere once again has deteriorated. Actually felt unwelcome at one point, so made myself scarce in a corner with a computer until the art director was ready for our dinner date.

Funnily enough, (aside from said ex-co-worker) my old bosses seemed the happiest to see me. Yet I used to be so happy in that little editorial corner. It was indeed a very Thomas Wolfe moment.

Unsettling how much things can change over the space of a year.

But then, there are always moments like just now when I listened to my dear pal (and I am once again referred to in her column for the second week in a row. I'm nearly famous. How much would it suck if my 15 minutes were actually broke up into 15 separate minutes of hardly-fame?) go off about how it would be grand if human beings could spontaneously remove and reattach one arm -- specifically so that sleeping on one side would be ever so much more comfortable.

I was strangely silent after this.