Working late at night is peaceful. Reading Slater, Descartes, Berkeley, writing on Harris . . . cool old stuff. Too much of it, but Liz insists it's all absolutely canon, and we can't possibly become psychologists without reading it. Reasonable.
My brother turned 21 on Sunday. We're all completely grown-up adults, now. Legally.
. . .
Hmm. It's too bad my brain doesn't actually work that well at this time of night. I was just about to write something very cool, a minute ago, and I now have no idea what.
Whoa. Meta-funny. Apparently my brain doesn't even work well enough to hit the "post and publish" button. So it's now Tuesday morning. I slept well, anyway. :-)