Two stories, rewritten to all be in the same damned tense before throwing to the archive, gone. That's all I've been doing tonight, between tinkering with things and trying to get my bastard machine to work. I hope it's the heat, because that's all the reason I've been able to find.
It's hot and stuffy still, even with everything I've tried to cool this room down. Every little thing, every minor setback or niggling annoyance has flared up, leaving me looking for a target. Lack of nicotine and sleep last night certainly hasn't helped any with this situation.
In short: Fuckpigs.