Dear Java Fueled Journaling,
It is nearly five in the morning. Four hours ago I woke up — couldn’t go back to sleep — really wired now. Sleep beckons, sleep cries out, sleep screams for me to succumb. No such luck. Time soon to get ready for work.
Yesterday was misery. I was in no uncertain terms a freaking miserable
f$$k Δexpletive captured, tracked and deleted by the F(ederal) T(hought) P(latoon)Δ. Still not in much better shape. Coffee…the fuel of champions…my totem…keeps me going — price to pay though with too much of it. And I do too much of it every single expletive day.
Check out that slick use of the word of the day in the last paragraph. Somebody help me…please. I am good. That last sentence needs an awesomely thought of preposition about how good I really am, but yesterday’s misery and over four hours of java-fuel and the preposition-thinking-of part of my brain did succumb to sleep. It left the rest of us behind.
Time to go. I’ll check in tomorrow. Love ya mean it.
All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know. ~Ernest Hemingway