divine angst

So apparently my mood yesterday was painted all over my face and carriage. My boss asked me this morning if I was doing OK—he left work apparently very concerned for me.

Yeah. See, there’s the cold. Then there’s the lawschool/gradschool stress (mentioned below). And my brother has been in town so I went for drinks with him Tuesday night (on top of an already planned dinner-and-drinks outing with a good friend)—that turned into three glasses of wine, a bottle of sake, and not enough food.

So yesterday was indeed rough. My cold saw the opportunity to launch a (minor) offensive and I felt just buried under a ton of bricks.

Today, I feel better.

But no requests? Surely someone wants me to talk about something. I know Milbarge and Fitz-Hume have locked in the whole month for requests, but surely someone could make a request of me?

Seriously, I need some ideas. Anyone? Bueller? Anyone?

Oops: Sui Generis just asked what I’d plan to do if I didn’t go to law school this year. I can write about that. Give me a few hours and I’ll see what I can produce.