AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHG!

I don't feel at liberty to explain, which is why I've set this no-comment.


Addendum as of 3:27 am: I just. Finished off. The last of the milk. Here's hoping I don't have any major moments of wig-out before we can get some more. (For those to whom this is a completely opaque reference: my stress breakdown in 1996 was precipitated by feeling a bit wiggy, deciding I was going to go get a glass of milk and that nice, normal, sane activity would rebalance me and make everything okay. I got out the milk, and discovered that the entire half-gallon was frozen solid. Little psyche pieces all over everywhere. I try to arrange my life these days so as not to get down to the last touchstone, but not having any milk in the house bugs me.)

Hell with it. While I'm editing I'll decide to allow comments, in case anyone wants to ftp me some whole milk.
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