I'm tired of caring about so many things. Or tired from caring about so many things. I'm going to choose one thing and only care about that, like the people on the History Channel who seem to have built their whole lives around one historical event, and know as much about that event as it is possible to. I love them. Or the people on that PBS show I stayed up all night watching once when I couldn't sleep. It was about Shakespeare and whether or not he'd really written all of the plays he's credited with. There were people arguing both sides of it, and they took it so personally and cared so much that I can't see how they'd have the time to care about anything else. And they all seemed to know each other. One person would be interviewed, explaining why he believed as he did, and make some comment about one of the other people who had been interviewed. "I know that Morris has probably been telling you he's seen actual evidence, but Morris is off his rocker!" Or something to that effect. How did I get here? Oh yeah, I want to be a television historian. All I need is an outfit that is slightly off-kilter and an extremely narrow field of expertise.

Everything would have been just fine if I hadn't kept saying yes to things. It started with that email from Francis.
"So...What do you say? Y or N?"
I should have chosen N. It should always be N.

Remember how we were going to run away to Toronto, and not know anyone but each other and, eventually, Don McKellar, who we would make our new best friend? And the rooms in our apartment would be the size of closets, and we'd be happy there, and never run into anyone we didn't want to see... I guess it's too late for that now. Maybe all I need is a little more sleep.