I get to work and did they swap out my computer?

No.

All I can remember from my dream this morning was that I was involved in industrial espionage involving a scientist who was making a fusion reactor out of LEGOs.

I had a dream the other day where my friend was talking to someone named Malala, and insisted it was Malala Yousafzai, and I was like, "Are you nuts? Of course it's a different Malala!"

So I took some ibu an hour+ ago, and my foot still hurts! Bummer.

Jesse, try plain old aspirin. It's the red-headed stepchild of painkillers, but for some things it's hard to beat.

I woke up from a dream about being in an unheated house in winter to find myself sweating under my duvet.

Work (and stress) is eating me, starting from the bottom. Gah.

Academic publishing makes no sense to me sometimes. I just got an email from an author that said "I know I am listed as the corresponding author, but you need to list my co-author's email address rather than mine, so that he can reply to questions and requests for reprints." Mind you, she meant we should still list HER as the corresponding author, but send all *correspondence* to her co-author for him to handle.

I don't know if there's a whole prestige thing, in terms of beefing up one's CV, to being listed as the corresponding author on a paper, but if she's not actually the one receiving the correspondence or replying to it, then -- and I may be talking out my ass here -- then that makes her NOT the corresponding author. Authors' egos are HILARIOUS. In that tear-my-hair-out way.

Steph, I've gotten requests like that before. As in, "I'm handling the correspondence with you for the proofing of the paper, but any correspondence from other engineers regarding the content should go through this co-author." Sounds reasonable. I just give them what they want; it keeps my blood pressure down.

Jesse, I love Salonpas patches for pain relief, although that might be difficult to use on a toe. Anywhere the pain is in a specific place, like my back or my shoulder, nothing helps more than those stick-on patches. I'm allergic to the adhesive; it gives me itchy dermatitis, but it's totally worth it. The medicine is menthol and salicilate (aspirin), basically.

I'm so pissed about this one stupid work thing, I can barely form coherent sentences. I'm just gritting my teeth and plowing through it.

OK, this is amusing yet creepy. An hour ago someone sent me a private message via Fanfiction.net asking if I wrote requests. I replied "Not normally, what did you want to see?" Immediately I got a request back for NC-17 Joyce/Xander/Oz. I told him--it's a male user ID--"Sorry, I won't be able to write that for you."

Someone obviously has a craving, but no. Get your fantasy grist somewhere else. I can see a way to do it, but, just, no. What's kind of creepy is the speed with which he replied. I figure a bland refusal is the best response. It may be a legitimate request, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's also hoping for outraged responses.

edit: And just got back "Thanks for ruining my week." It's only Tuesday, dude, I'm sorry your prospects are that slim. No response, I think.

Ew. Some people do themselves no favors.

brenda, I will try aspirin!

Connie, was it Jeremy Crawford? [link]