Wtf: What fuckery is this?

I've got roughly twenty-four hours to finish my paper. Oh, and my sister goes in for gallbladder surgery at nine this morning. Which, by the way, is cool because she's been miserable for almost a year with gallstone trouble, but also is freaking me out a little bit because it's surgery but also because of this stupid fucking paper, because a. she's the one who turned me on to Lovecraft in the first place and b. because apparently Lovecraft's mother died of complications from a bad gallbladder surgery (seriously, what the fuck ever, universe). Given that it was performed in an asylum in the '20s, it's not exactly an applicable basis for the likelihood of success, but I am known to be both painfully superstitious and a chronic worrywart so...

Oh, and now that I'm working on something else, my brain wants to write all the fic. Typical.

Yeah. Got my toast. Got my orange juice. And, if I need it, I've got two caffeine shots on my nightstand. Let's get this fucker written.

Edit: Sis is out of surgery now and doped to all hell. She should be home sometime tomorrow.