Bloody hell...

I figure at this rate I won't make forty.

By the end of the hour I'll have an ulcer and by the end of the week I'll have grey hairs.

I'm overreacting, but only a bit. It's unfair to mention it because it will stress out one of my readers.

It's not entirely about that, but it's partially there.

I'm damaged, I need recouperation.

Please.

Like you couldn't possibly imagine...

It's ok, I breath slowly and it isn't as bad. Drink, eat tums, and be Mary. All in a days work.