Today I discovered it is a bad idea to consecutively sleep poorly, get out of bed relatively early, drink two cups of very strong black coffee but eat nothing, and then go clean the gallery. After an hour of dusting things, pushing a vacuum cleaner around, and running back and forth to the dumpster, (all with the knowledge that I need to finish before Nick arrives at nine) I feel a sensation potentially comparable to what a squirrel might experience on speed.
In that vein, Richard William III is shedding. I must say, it's most unbecoming.
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