Though you die in combat gory,
Ye shall live in song and story.
Go to immortality!
Go to death, and go to slaughter;
Die, and every Cornish daughter
With her tears your grave shall water.
Go, ye heroes, go and die!

I'm fine with that.

I wasn't sleeping terribly well last night. As usual. At around two, I got up to use the bathroom (a first defense if I'm not sleeping well, since sometimes I don't notice I need to until I stand up, but my body is aware enough to wake me up), then rolled around in bed for 20 minutes and got up. My allergies were bugging me, so I thought to kill two birds with one stone by taking a Benadryl. I ended up sleeping in. That was pretty good.

Or: What would Nicu Vlad do?

And hope you all did, too. I was, alas, unable to be at Hog Stock, except in the sense that rmg was at CBB's HusiStock, except in the sense that nobody wrote a fictionalized narrative with me sneaking in. However, I did have a long dinner with some good friends who had chocolate from Hotel Chocolat in London. And the sausages we ate probably had pork in them, so that counts.

We'll surf like they do in the USA.

I just failed at phone tag. I was supposed to be on a 9:00 call, but I wasn't at my desk at the precise moment they called me - like 9:04. So I called back, but the line was busy (duh), left a message, sat around waiting. Then I got a call from the director of somesuch and nonsense about some report I made, and as we were hashing it out I saw I had a call on my other line, but I couldn't get to it in time. Called back, again, the line was busy.