Without having eaten much (food is sitting right here):
I have, since 11 a.m., presented a web-publishing tutorial to a writer and an intern, actually answered my phones without knowing who was calling and talked to people, made a return call to a prospective writer, worked on macro-planning, micro-managed at least 20 e-mails and their tails of trouble (no, not tales), paid the mortgage (just in time), paid the water bill (just in time), gone to two grocery stores and a pet food store, prepared the chili, reorganized the leftover soups and Chinese foods (homemade and takeout tofus) from giant half-full bowls to exactly-the-same repeated containers in the fridge, remembered to throw the freezer-grease cans into the trash, took out the trash and recycling, washed all the dishes, refilled the cat's lidded portion bowls for the week …
Yes, I promise you I will eat.
I am afraid to go to sleep. Am "making holiday pay" as we speak (so to speak; idiom does not always match reality), thinking about another over-dreamed night and wondering if my shoddy hold on grammar will survive through the spring.
Grandmother, paternal, was an alcoholic.
… eating …
but you have to guess what it is.