Yes, it's three fourty-three in the morning

and I can't remember how to spell "fourty." It must be rooted in French.... I can never get the hang of French at a quarter to four in the morning. It's the pre-dawn hours that I lay awake desperately trying to remember how to spell onui...enoui, onwee.... where's that dictionary.

This is why I took German in High School. I never lay supine and delerious, trying to remember how to spell versmechen. I mean, why?

I wonder, is versmechen even German? There I did it... ruined a perfectly good non-obsessive trait. sigh.

Anwyays, it's nearing my lifetime-ago wake-up time when I commuted five hours a day, and I'm in the office.

Let it be known to All Mankind that the Coachella Valley is a heap of dog scat. Specifically, my database of the Coachella Valley, so by association, all within depicted by my bits and bytes is tarnished with the foul smell of chaos. I've been wrestling with this agricultural mecca for dates, grapes, and canine offal for several months, and it's come down to having to finish it today or, well, hell, I work for the Feds, I was told after I've worked for them for three years I could kill someone and still not get fired. So, it's not like I'll get fired if I'm not done, I'll just cause panic. And, Friends, Panic in a cloistered office environment is worth avoiding at all costs.

Which means I'm running on about six hours of sleep over the past five days.

If versmechen isn't a real word, it is now.