I am not burning the candle at both ends. Rather, I have decided to take the entire candle store, dowse it in gasoline, and set a match to it.

It is better to burn out than to fade away. However, not considered in this comparison is the utter joy of 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. That is better that burning out any day of the week, except Monday, when burning out makes for a wonderful spectacle.

I imagine that working too much and not sleeping enough is a bad way to die. Too slow, for one. But at least I get to enjoy a few shots along the way. I wonder: at this rate, will the cigarettes get me before the impending neurotic breakdown? And will I be sober enough to care?

Random thought: what if spontaneous human combustion is just god playing with a magnifying glass? You know, like we all did with ants when we were little? Do you think ants have a word for spontaneous bug combustion?

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Dull, but finanacially stable for the first time in his adult life. And really, really sleepy.

And if one more person tells me to work smarter, not harder, I’m going to punch them in the throat. And then tell them to tell my bosses to pay me smarter. And tell them to think smarter, not harder.