Head: hurting due to excessive (related to my current fatigue and lack of tolerance) revelry last night.
Work: shoddy.
Tutoring: fair to middling.
Stressed: out.
Mood: indigo.
Ugh.
***
"The Bells" is possibly the single most pleasurable poem to read aloud in the English language. For this masterwork, Edgar Allen Poe received the princely sum of fifteen dollars. A few months later he died of drink, or a brain aneurysm, or something.
So it goes.
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