How do things manage to pile up like this? If I owe you a letter or a phone call, look out and listen up. My people will be talking to your people. I'm sorry I don't have time for lunch.
There are articles that need to be finished (at least to the next draft), poems to be edited, a home to be cleaned (why don't you unpack from your trip two weeks ago you ingrate), laundry to be done or at least dented, a trip to Michigan and we hope Toronto to plan, bugs to fix, code to be refactored (I'm looking at you, delicious-el) and also released (tg.py), Nations to read -- the paper is yellowing -- and most importantly a large amount of still to sit (during which thou shalt not contemplate retreat plans).
What got into you? "Stay out of Malibu, deadbeat!"
"The countdown has been so smooth, the launch crew can hardly believe it."
It all begins with a nap. At least I'm almost caught up with emacs-devel, and I'm down with Debian's many definitions of firmware. "Head games, it's you and me baby..." So yeah, at least I have my priorities. Without them, I'm, uh, me.