Monday, March 25, 2002

I'm sore. I've got hundreds of e-mails to read. I'm scratched all to hell. There's sand in every orifice of my body, and in every piece of gear that I have. I've slept maybe six hours in the past three nights. My workload is horrific. I've got a horrendous sunburn and my lips are chapped and bleeding.
God, what a great trip!


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