I think I may have lost some zazz at some point.

I can’t work 16 sweaty hours per day so easily anymore. I’ll survive, but I’ll be exmausted (that’s when you’re so tired you use the letter ‘m’ instead of ‘h’ because it takes less breath).

I was working all weekend on a friend of mine’s movie (as my two year old calls him, “friend Andy, friend Andy?”).

30 or so hours of strenuous filmmaking later, I’m sore and achy, and jittery at hearing a fan in our bedroom while I’m falling asleep (I keep on thinking, we should probably shut that thing off, it’s going to be bad for recording dialogue).

Still, a really fun weekend.