Yeah. That's right. That's what I'm talking about.

 Currently channeling my inner (or not so inner) Cutthroat Writer (notice her fingers poised to drop to the keyboard and—clack, no—CLACK for hours, even if her toddler wakes up at 5:00a.m., like today, even if “cutthroat writer” means looking like this for the rest of her life—which, if these 5:00a.m. wakings keep on, she certainly will look like this for the rest of her life and—totally forgot where I was going with this.