I think we’re just going to have to be secretly in love with each other and leave it at that

(cue musical score: Final Countdown)

I left a room full of reporters typing feverishly after 1 a.m. last night. Mass emails led me to believe that there were reporters and ediporters working after 3 a.m.

As for me, I simply don’t know what to do with myself.

For someone who enjoys wallowing in her own sorrows, I am (uncomfortably!?) content with life right now.

The pity party has wrapped up. A lone reveler is passed out on the couch. There are dirty dishes in the sink.

Thank God for Seasonal Affective Disorder. As the time falls back, we can hold the last remaining bits of Vitamin D close to our chests. We can listen to music. We can believe we are much worse off than we are. We can eat poorly, sleep more than we need to and drink wine. Until March!

In the same way that a 5k seems way more awesome once you’ve run a Half Marathon, today seems way more awesome than last week. As my superior put it, we are all more than happy to dance a little jig on the grave of Election 2007. When I started, and my only job was commentary editor, I felt like I was putting in ridiculous hours, and that I wasn’t being paid enough for the amount of work I was doing. When I became and Ediporter, I felt like I was putting in ridiculous hours, and that I wasn’t being paid enough for the amount of work I was doing. When I was an Editporter during election season, I felt like … well, you know.

It’s all relative.

I’m always going to feel overworked.

Isn’t that a relief!?

It’s not that I’m being abused, it’s just that I’m a negative person!

Except for today. I’m not doing anything today. Two baby letters pages, and I might catch a movie at the dollar theater.

I might even have a chance to read Chris Cantoni’s script.

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