I mention this because it's been the kind of day where, while I was evaluating a transcript from the Phillipines, I came across a letter from the Registrar assuring me that the student in question "did not have any record showing that he violated the school rules and regulations nor has been suspected of being a member of any unlawful or subversive organization that advocates the overthrow of the government of the Phillipines" (original grammar and punctuation theirs, but then they were writing in English while thinking in Filipino), and dissolved into silly, helpless laughter that lasted almost fifteen minutes, and is lingering still, and which I felt compelled to share with my counterpart O, who found it equally amusing. I must say I feel much better admitting him, now that I know he's not going to overthrow the government, probably. Though I guess with a name like "Charlemagne" they felt we might need to be reassured.
Anyway I know none of that points necessarily to my being flustered, but you're going to have to take my word for it.
There is also possibly Remus/Sirius fic in the works, finally. I have been, strangely, writing this story for, oh, I don't know, how many years ago did Order of the Phoenix come out? And suddenly there is a vague, spindly thread of plot running through most of it, more or less, and I am finding that my Remus-voice is delightfully rambly and awkward and remembering why I love him so much.
I am not sure what to call it, except that I found myself researching the names of sunken cities that were not Atlantis, but gods alone know who even on the Internet is going to know anything about Cantref Gwaelod, so perhaps that is not an appropriate title, even though the story is about things going unsaid for fear of upsetting the applecart, or the orangecart, I don't know. I think I liked it because it made me think of "Passing Through Gethsemane," which is one of the better episodes of television I have ever watched, poor Brother Edward. Anyway, there is a mood I am trying to achieve and I have an apparently incurable affinity for giving things obscure mythologically-referential titles that I alone understand. Especially Welsh ones, apparently.
In any case the day is at least passing quickly, so I can go home soonish and stop being flustered and dropping things that do not belong to me. I can drop my own things, instead. Which at least might be slightly less embarrassing. I hope.