Coffee… good for the soul… bad for the body. Coffee is my only weakness that isn't a 13-year-old boy. I work so much that it's a necessity.
I feel like as soon as I drift off to sleep, I have to go to work. But there is work to be done… so not like I have a choice.
I'll work till I hit the wall, and then I'm work some more. I'll work till I see streams of numbers rolling through my eyes and I feel like I'm talking in binary code. I woke up one morning, in the office, 30 typed pages of the letter 'f', my finger resting on the key. I had fallen asleep like that. I could not help but laugh at myself.
But no matter how hard I work, how long I work, no matter how late I came home, how long its been since I've slept… there is a little raven haired boy waiting for me when I get home. He don't give a damn if I didn't call, telling him that I would be late, the only thing he cares about it the fact that I am there, and so is he.
That's a pretty powerful thing to be able to say.