Stupid, stupid, stupid

I'm tired.

And no, not because of the logical reason that has something to do with a six-month old. No, I'm tired because I'm not so smart.

I (stupidly) stayed up way too late. Partially because I was watching the Oscars, but moreso because I was accomplishing a few things, and it's very easy to get give into the desire of doing things when the baby's sleeping, because it's easy and oh so productive, but you know you're going to pay for it the next day.

Which makes you write in long, run-on sentences like that one. Which is great when you have a bunch of stuff to write at work today while you're really tired which means all of your stories are going to be really unnecessarily long and your editor is going love you because of all the editing the editor then has to do since your stories don't say anything other than lots of words, stuck together and pasted onto a page. I'd make a funny comment here about being William Faulkner but it just took me 10 minutes to remember his proper name, instead the moniker I was going to go with, which was "You know, that guy who wrote the long, run-on, crazy book about the bear, what was it called again, oh yeah, "The Bear," you know, the one from high school or college English class, which one was it again? Oh, oatmeal! I have oatmeal in my desk drawer! I'm going to go make some oatmeal..."

Yeah, it's going to be a productive day.