'Callouses- Or is it Calluses?- on my feet again. And now they're beginning to blossom all over my brain too. Sleep- I'll douse it for a bit, and smile a lot in the morning, and do things. And talk to people. Perhaps I should read some old kiddy books. And make plans to watch a movie tomorrow. Or two. And I really must get down to work. There's so much of it piled up. And Christmas presents for everyone. And I'll get some of that peppy, filmi music- it's a bit more cheerful. Liven things up. And... and- oh, there's so much to do anyway. I'll never get all of it done. I'd better not take any more things on my head. Not one moment to rest. Of course. I'm not complaining, but noone does these things if I'm not around. Half- a- dozen bulbs were fused in the house, and the blankets were filthy, and there was a mouse practising jumps into the waste-basket in the guest bedroom. I had to go out myself to get the bulbs, and get everything done, and I'm so tired now...

No, that isn't why I'm tired.
I'm sorry. I forgot it was you.'