I have composed a haiku to describe my unease at the Peter Street B-boyz's shifting hours:

Once open always,
Peter Street Burrito Boyz
Now I'm just not sure.

I know it was never actually "open always," but poetry is about expressing feelings, not facts.

Hey, my Zombies Calling post got linked on Whedonesque due to its Joss-ish content, and I didn't even have to do anything. Thank you, interwebs, for your endless ability to annex and propagate my work! It's nice when I don't have to exert. The Faith Erin Hicks signing last night was good; I got a FEH-original Sonnet-kissing-Joss doodled on the inside cover of my ZC copy. So yeah-ya.

It has been the longest work week ever. Everybody's sort of grounded out to doing nothing - today at the office, about ten of us spent a good quantity of time trying to figure out how we'd disrupt an awkward one-on-one taking place behind closed doors in our kitchen. Also, for a solid portion of the afternoon I just wandered around with my Constable Odo action figure, making him look at stuff and say "hmmmmm." I found it amusing; others, less so.

I am tired and happy, and wearing purple and green.