The ‘this’ in the above title refers to ‘staying up literally all night at the office working on a story – or, more specifically, 150 of them.’ ‘Shit’ refers to ’shit.’

The clock on my machine reads 4:36 a.m., meaning that I’ve been staring at some form of an LCD screen and typing for the better part of the last 20 hours. And at this point, I think I’m going to make it through the next day without a major breakdown or methamphetamine. Granted, working this late and writing has its peripheral creative benefits, with inadvertent fun phrases working their way into my articles. Thus far, I’m planning to publish

• ‘Show Me the Money: The Financial Godfather’
• ‘tubular bells’
• ‘respite from war’s horrors’
• ‘Canada, Eh? Going International’
• ‘the proud papa of one hell of an idea’
• ‘this modern litigious environment’
• ‘the anti-climax of an empty banquet hall’

At this point, I can’t tell if my writing reflects a mindset that’s either slap-happy or apathetic – and whether those above phrases are sheer genius or deranged meanderings that shouldn’t see the light of day.

And I wasn’t joking about 150 articles. I’m finishing number 47 (‘Bells are Ringing: The Carillons, Restored’) as we speak.