Screw it.

I've decided that today is simply going to be all about surviving and not screwing up my job. Once again I--sing it with me; it's an old and familiar refrain, I'm sure you know the words--forgot to order my ADD supplements in time to keep from running out completely, so my brain's got nothing but its own flighty, flaky, fidgety self to guide it. So I hereby give myself permission to only worry about being productive enough to keep my bosses happy, or at least keep them from noticing that anything's amiss. My regular writing schedule can just wait on hold until I've got my pills, which according to Vitacost's shipping schedule should be tomorrow. One writing skip day won't kill me or my novel.