Well, then. Nothing from the day.
Tonight I shall sleep at a comfortable 1:30. So long, suckers! Death will meet you, if you do not escape it.
Time to sleep.
I think I've identified the cause of the slowed writing, though. I don't care about my day anymore. Well, I care, but not in the way that causes one to want to write about it. "End of day, time to sleep," I think, instead of, "End of day; wasn't it interesting? Let's ponder it some more."
Which is maybe because I'm starting to wake up at semi-respectable hours, but still not going to sleep then. Well, things will all work out in the end. You'll see.
Bah. Wish it were *now*.