I’m just frickin exhausted and I can’t seem to shake it. Today I actually used the phrase “death sure sounds nice”.
Also, strangely enough, turns out that I have an alarming number of things in common with Diane Sawyer:
---> "...[After work], I’m never seen out of sweatpants or jeans,"
---> " ... I grow progressively more deranged as the day goes on. I usually end up with paper clips in my hair and things stapled to me and those Post-it things on my shirt. At the end of the day, I am my own personal freak show."