And it was another killer night. No, I didn't x-ray any more killers, the night (and a whole bunch people) conspired to kill me by running me to death.

Damn 'em, it didn't work again.

I had to call out help for a coupla hours, though. Sometimes I hate doing that, but I can't do it all by myself, and I'm not even gonna try to any more. I'll just do the best that I can, and when I get behind, I'll call people in. No guilt involved... unless I can make other people feel guilty. And I'm not very good at that.

I just took a dose of the cough syrup (the stuff that damned near killed me yesterday), then I ate a bowl of Wheat Chex™... not I'll keep track of my tummy for a while and see what happens... nothing, I hope.

Last night was actually pretty boring, unless you count the guy who sniffed four cans of paint... he had gold paint all over his face, it kinda looked like he's been eating it.

And then there were the pizza hut guys... the first one had ran a stop sign and gotten broadsided by a pickup truck. He was pretty much unhurt. The second one came in later, he'd been mugged and robbed. O'wait, is that one of those... whaddaycallits... redundant phrases... is getting mugged mean that you got robbed too? O'well, I'll let it stand. My brain says it's OK, and I'll go along with my brain on this one.

OK, silliness is setting in, I can tell. I should take the reins and run with it, but taking the reins on silliness kinda ruins the whole idea, don't it? Instead... I think that I'll go to sleep.

That's always a good idea. My brain and my body are in agreement on this one...

More tomorrow.