Now I'm going to have a shower and then comment spam your journals for I have been slack.
Oh, and last night I dreamt about climbing mountains to discover ancient relics with Tony Slattery. Only his name was Fran. The night before that I was a 3 foot high sentient bowling ball, who, after a pro-wrestler used me to score a strike, went exploring a set of angular tunnels where the gravity shifted at random and at corners. Analysis, please!