A hole is nothing at all
◊ Stuck in the newsroom until two A-motherfuckin'-M wanting to kill a certain assistant and then got home to a freezing, filthy, messy house so covered in junk that I can't take three steps without tripping over something. There's still no food and I'm still broke and you know those fights where you're fighting but you're not even talking? I can't figure out if I'm tangled in one of those, too.
Would all you people do me a favor and just stop being HAPPY and JOKEY and FUN already? Please. Just cut that shit out for a bit and be quiet. Half an hour, that's all I need. Otherwise I'm gonna have to shut you up myself, and that will get messy.
OK. I am trying to make myself feel better. I am trying to remember a moment when I felt exceptionally good. Last winter, Dan would get under the freezing covers and warm them up for me, and I would climb into bed and shiver while he wrapped himself around me to try to keep me warm.
Nope.
I don't feel better at all.
How about this: today I was outside the newsroom, squatting with my back against a wall, smoking a cigarette, and for almost ten seconds my brain was completely silent.