Too many days of late I've been short of sleep, and now it is catching up with me. I run the risk of doing a face plant every time I stand. When did this font get so blurry? Why does it take all my strength to push these keys? I think I'll go to bed and sleep for, oh, say twelve hours. No, can't do that. Too much stuff needs done. Too hot to sleep right now, anyway. There is a hot, dry wind that feels as though it were blowing right out of a Raymond Chandler novel. I'm pretty sure that I'm the corpse in this one. Marlowe will find my killer. Most likely, it will turn out to be time.