First entry. In lieu of the more commonplace rantings and ravings, I shall write a poem.
This Year Is Going To Be Busy
Rush.
Coffee ready? I've got to run.
Keys, Coat, Car
Rush.
Paper in? Lets sit down and get to work.
Don't look at the clock; it's flying by.
Rush.
Break? Good, I can get ahead, so maybe I won't have to
Rush.
Cell phone rings.
What's that? Pick up dinner?
I can, but I'll have to
Rush.
Done with dinner, I only have an hour of paperwork.
Rush.
I'll just take a shower before I hit the hay.
Rush.
Man, I'm dead. Well, I have to get to sleep quickly because tomorrow's another day...
Rush.
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