So I woke up at 2:30 this morning worrying about the writeup from the previous post. I had a good two-hour panic session, until a bit before 5:00 am, when I usually get up. And suddenly I knew what I was going to do.
What is it with late-night panic & anxiety? And why can I never think of that useful stuff until it's time I would have been getting up anyway? And why is this damn thing so important to me, anyway; why can't I let it go?
I have a coworker who's a good friend, who used to get bent outta shape when I referred to certain of our clients as "nutballs". Well, believe me: there's only a few seconds of degree arc between them and me; I'm pretty much a screamin' yellow nutball myself.
(Does anybody but me remember Screaming Yellow Zonkers?)