Monday, March 1

The twitch has got to go. Wasn't there some tragic hero who poked his own eyes out? Oedipus, maybe? Yeah, well that's gonna be me if the twitch doesn't stop a-twitchin'. It took a hiatus from Saturday afternoon to Sunday evening, but returned before I went to bed Sunday.

Credible Internet sources (an oxymoron if there ever were one) say that the twitch is undoubtedly stress-related. Stress of the eye strain kind, or stress of the company meeting in t-minus seven days kind. I think I've got both, wrapped up in a neat little package.

Meanwhile, just call me Cyclops for the time being. I will also resort to wearing an eye patch if I have to. Then I can have a convenient excuse for Talking Like a Pirate.

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