Sleep-deprived, and practically hallucinating. INTERN was mailing out galleys this morning, and inadvertently put $46.50 worth of postage on a small flat parcel destined for New Jersey. Caught it just in time. Yesterday evening when INTERN went outside to check on her basil, she thought to herself "the basil needs editing". Not thinning. Editing. And just now INTERN's task has been to track down contact information for famous authors to endorse less-famous authors' books, and has found herself gleefully composing improbable letters to the likes of Dr. Oz.
Luckily there are official tasks available to a frazzled INTERN on a day like this. Namely, taking all the file folders in the giant metal file-thing and flipping them around to face the other direction. Really. This task is not as boring as it sounds, because each flip of a folder grants INTERN a glimpse of what meaty or interesting document said folder contains, often book contracts and agent/editor/author correspondence.
Too tired to go on. Too many occurrences of the word "INTERN". Too many basil shoots. Now entering land of infinite psychosis.