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The thing that made work slow was that I was falling asleep off and on throughout the day.

The thing that made work fast was that I was getting an incredible amount of stuff done and thus only had perhaps a page and a half of slack time.

The thing that made work ugly was that my nose has decided that it will drain incredible amounts of Stuff down my throat and into my lungs, because I have offended it, and if it is not cleared out by normal means (deliberate coughing, snorfing, blowing nose cleverly), it will dislodge itself by cunning and evil means: having me attempt to cough out not only my lungs but my stomach as well. Of course, since deliberate coughing, snorfing, and blowing nose are contraindicated while on a 20-minute survey, I would be seized by bouts of crippling involuntary cough-wise convulsions. While on the phone with respondents. Oh, yeah. Feel the joy.

On the other hand, I did get told by someone that I had a lovely voice.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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