It's possible that my genitals have grown. I'm not sure. I seem to be busting out of my pants right now, like a newborn baby boy exploding out of a diaper from the sheer swelling. I feel like I'm carrying around a decent-sized steak in my left pocket. It's distracting, and at least vaguely disturbing. I will monitor and report back.

Today didn't entirely suck, but it tried really hard for it. I don't know. My job still feels very "hit and fade," six weeks later. It's all frenzied activity or nothing at all. Like the other day, I had a fairly hefty meeting scheduled that was going to take my entire morning, with nothing in particular on the boards for the afternoon, but I figured with half the day gone I could make some work and get by. Nope: the all-morning meeting concluded in ten minutes, and suddenly not only did I have nothing to do, but I was hours ahead of schedule on it. This morning was similarly blank - plus there's the teensiest possibility that I was (quite accidentally) still a hair on the high side when I arrived at work - until a gigantic spring rain of solid work landed on me in the early afternoon and I was washed downriver for the rest of the day. Hallelujah. But minimal sleep from last night, plus some vaguely annoying passive aggressive shit from the X wars around midday, really sapped the life out of me. I had to summon up the last reserves of my Jedi strength to run downtown after work and meet a guy who wants to conscript me to do some voice work for some audio tours of T.O. that he's putting together; this was the highlight of my day, because he really sold me on it, and that's cool. I came home, and at various points a) stripped naked and lay spread-eagle on my bed staring at the ceiling, b) played Donkey Kong and yelled at Dixie a lot, and c) ate chunks of dark chocolate to sublimate my rather pronounced need for a day of all-day snuggling. But now I am tired and can still taste my sour mood in my mouth. Thank you world.