9B6: Hartwerk

I started writing something here about my impressions of people who make a point of stating that they work hard (negative impressions, I'm afraid -- perhaps better left in the bit bucket). Half-way through, I seem to have hit some kind of limit on the amount of coffee and chocolate that a person can ingest while retaining the ability to form cogent thoughts. 'Twas either the stimulants that stopped me, or the repeated interruptions from my sister who, upon seeing a person typing at a computer, apparently gets the impression that they're just dying to have a conversation and proceeds to derail any train of thought they may have dared to embark upon.

Now, having erased all I wrote, and with a kind of wet sandstorm blowing through my brain, I'm left to reconsider the wisdom of having ever attempted to write something before 2:00am.

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