Rough night yesterday--though for me personally that means entering receipts into a spreadsheet (yay tax time). Mark got chewed out by his editor because he got scooped on something--by a bigger paper that has six reporters covering the same beat he covers all by himself. So I insisted we go to bed early. This morning when my alarm went off Mark was already working--and on the phone. I didn't even get a chance to talk to him! I guess he took my advice yesterday when I said to "get back on the stick". (Where do I pick up these weird idiomatic phrases, anyway? I'm also the only person I've ever known who refers to being "thrown under the bus". Very strange.) And I tried to call him a few minutes ago, and he was too busy to talk... I wish he wouldn't beat himself up over this. He's been scooped like, twice in his entire career. But he feels like it's his fault--that he's not working hard enough because he's tired of his job. And that may be the case, but I hate to see him take this so personally... We really need to get him another job, and on the double!

Had the craziest dream the other night about spam emails, believe it or not. All of these messages would come up if you tried to delete them--and they carried a virus that spread to humans and made everyone act really immature and irresponsible. Then there were these ghost/zombie types, and Buffy came... Okay, it was weird.