I had a six-hour high-stress workday because I am overly paranoid that I might be a carrier for the coronavirus due to the possibility I was in the same building at the same time as the 43-year-old square dancer who died from it.
I got only about five solid hours of sleep.
I have an identical shift tomorrow, only worse due to extra patrons and thus less breaktime.
I am tired.
But I do really really want to talk more about something.
I may have found a refined version of my playstyle but it needs talking about.