My friends have a hard time accepting the fact that I’ve been working so much this week. Case in point… it’s 4:30am, and I just walked in the door (and of course, I’m working on Opus). It’s weird, but there’s something exhilarating about working at such strange hours. Admittedly, it’s not something I want to make a habit out of, so I hope my employer doesn’t get any ideas.

The only way I can describe it is like you’re walking a thin line, and the only way to keep from falling off is to work at a feverish pace. The whole city is asleep, but you’re running on fumes, trying to get as much done as possible in the rapidly-shrinking amount of time you have before your body shuts down. Deadlines become meaningless; it’s simply an unwinnable struggle against sleep.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to concede defeat…