I'm supposed to be working on Don Quijote right now. I'm supposed to go to Spain in the spring. I'm terrified by the second, worried about the first.

I don't really know what to do, and frankly, I think sleep would be best.

The car blew a gasket and it takes more money to fix it than it did to buy the car, far more. It seems to me that we have terrible luck. Sometimes it is really hard to make things okay.