My flist is at skip=500, I haven't even mentioned the slasher meetup last weekend, I have to leave my flat in two weeks and do not yet know where I'm going to live.
I have no food, haven't slept much, my muscles hurt - as do my eyes for some reason - and I have a to do list about five miles long.
But I don't care. You know why?
As of today, I can officially say I'm a vet.
Excuse me while I switch between hysterical laughter and panicked whimpering for a while.