Sadomasotypist

          Last night, my body decided that it needed no sleep. So there I was after an unexpected all-nighter, pecking at the typewriter again and masochistically enjoying every moment of it. Jeremy mentioned his childhood "playing at Joey [redacted -- Brian's last name]'s house," which was odd because I've never met anyone else with that surname, and highly recommended an Italian place in Brighton called Carlo's Cucina. I also got to listen to poor Ally fighting with clueless Outlook techs over malfunctioning email servers -- a fate worse than death for a law firm. After work, Iris and I made abortive attempts to watch Se7en, which she realized she's seen partway in, and then Jacob's Ladder, which she thought she'd seen, then otherwise, then changed her mind again. By this point, I was too tired for it anyhow.