I am peeved

I am peeved at spending an insufficiency of time in the company of Yoda and that is perverse. I practiced saying "I hereby ram my ticket to the Christmas Ball up your arse" yesterday evening and then no Yoda. By the time I finished my shift everyone else had put me in a totally vile mood; I could have taken the head from someone's shoulders, anyone's shoulders. Still no Yoda. I feel cheated.

I must write more words without crashing to a halt short of the tape. The temptation to write move directly to stop without passing through the tedious business of writing another 5,000 or so words is intoxicating. I have a piece of paper with those last words sketched out. I must not. I must not.