As a pancake, my friends. A giant, oaken pancake.

I'm very tired.

The above is probably what you would call the subject line of this email. The theme of this epic verse. The thesis statement of this essay. The capital of this country.

Very, very tired.

As an organized human being, which I am, allow me to lay out the factors which have contributed to my current state in a familiar format.

a) Work. While not tiring in and of itself, working at Borders drove me to return to my natural "morning person" state. Regardless of the previous day's activities, this meant that I regained the ability to arise without fail at 7am every morning. Good for work, bad when combined with:

b) Debauchery. See: The Slug and Lettuce, 12 hour overtime shifts, sociopathic coworkers, obscure literature (and where to find it), very plain kebabs, taxis, the King of the Moon (See also: pupation), Wii Sports, Cornwall, badgers (stoats and weasels included), things beginning with K, large bottles of champagne, and a small, nondescript residence on York Street. Culminating in:

c) Travel. The need to move back and forth between places very frequently. Over to London, down to Cornwall, up to Cambridge, home to Horseheath, back to Cambridge, into King's Cross, up to West Hampstead -- pause for three hours of sleep -- down to Victoria, out to Gatwick, up to 30,000 feet, into Madrid, underground on the Metro, up to the train station, onto the train, Westward Ho, pancake, pancake, pancake -- and some sleep -- off train, into Salamanca, up stairs, through door, onto sofa, and cut.

Basically, if you compress throse three factors in a period of the last four days, with a bridge somewhere in the middle consisting of completely unexpected, surreal bliss -- you have my current mental state. In a word: shattered. Not that I haven't had a grand old time doing it all, but between enjoying Christmas, finishing work, cavorting into the New Year, packing, eating, driving, rarely sleeping, and leaving -- I'm all out of hydrogen fuel cells. Or is it bubble gum? Who can say...

As a matter of fact, it seems wise for me to leave the land of descriptive narrative for the time being and get some rest before I embark on my apartment search tomorrow, but to recap (In case any of this actually made sense...or rather didn't, which is far more likely):

I'm alive. Barely.