Amount of pages written in the past nine hours: THIRTY ONE. I AM A GOLDEN GOD.
Amount of coffee consumed: I lost track around ten or so. In my defense, it was wussy coffee, and it was hot, and that helped my throat.
Ability to speak: Like unto that of a newborn babe, yet much, much less able to make shrieky noises. I can kind of squeak, and click. So I'm a little like a dolphin, but with legs.
Ways that metaphor sucked: Myriad.
Times I've compulsively brushed teeth, in order to soothe nerves: Many, many.
Cigarettes smoked: None! The kid, she can be taught! Smoking when -- sick? I don't even know if that's what I am -- is a bad idea!
Candy eaten: None! I win so much!
Things I've destroyed: Accidentally, I destroyed a holder of blank cds I had. On purpose I destroyed a cardboard box that had offended me.
Truth in the statement that my life is not like other people's: God, more than I can even say.
Hey, is that Elvis outside of my window?: It very well might be. You think I'm kidding and I'm way, way not.