By request:

...1 hour, 6 minutes to go.

Why have I returned to this madhouse? What crazed impulse drove me here? Is filthy lucre all that enticing that I should risk life, limb and, dare I say, sanity in this festering haven of barbarity?

I dare say it is. After all, here I am.

Having toiled and striven my way through a jungle of inky blackness and over a mountain of paper and skulls, I stand amidst the labyrinthine ruin of an entire society's life. Pressboard and felt walls loom oppressively, their bulk shadowing the eerie flicker of the lighting in the low ceiling.

I can feel the sweat pricking on my arms and brow, the fever of the place infecting me. The wild call of the phone sends chills down my spine and my heart responds with a beastly roar, a call and response of barbarism to barbarism.

I must escape. Time presses on me, but I can sense the cool wind of the weekend before me. I need only to find the way out again...

...why did I return?

I'm so, so sorry Jess.

very sorry, jessica

I'm so sorry Jessica.

Tep, if you could stop by Delta headquarters for me and kill everyone there with a shotgun, that'd be awesome. I just spent 15 minutes crying into a very perky automated voice telling me she didn't understand what I was saying, only to have the live agent inform me that they don't have bereavement fares anyway.

So I'm booking through Travelocity instead.

Jessica that is so not fair. I hope travelocity treats you better.

Jessica, I'm so sorry.

Jessica my condolences.

And coal to the Delta asschapeaus for Christmas. Ignited coal.

Jessica, I'm so sorry for your loss and having to deal with Delta.

I went to the mall this morning to do some Christmas shopping. While there, I picked up a couple of Christmas dish towels and thought I'd head home, clean the house, and put out a few decorations. Now that I've started doing it, I'm feeling hopeless because the house is such a mess and the workmen will be back here on Monday to mess it all up again. Sigh.