What is the sound of one frustrated and nervous librarian clapping?

Frustrated because:

1. I'm out of gas, although my car decided to run out of gas once I got home, and thanks to a couple of generous friends, I have money for more gas. (Rent more important than gas, I'm afraid.)
2. My internet connexion at home has finally gone away, which I can't really complain about since I can't pay for it. But still, it's a little sad. Please forgive me if I can't post quite so often. I'm dealing with that frustration by playing lots of 'Get Medieval'--a sort of old 'Gauntlet' with better graphics and an Arnold Schwarzeneggar clone ('Where are the girlie monsters?') Ah, good old-fashioned dungeon-combing and making fun of California's governor (that particular character also goes on about leg pumping and farts when you reach a secret door); that's guaranteed to make me a little happier.
3. I've just had three people take apart and put back together my article manuscript. The good news: I can publish it. But it's still annoying to have them all decide that in the interest of making sure I don't go and embarrass the system that they have to check every bit of it for tone, accuracy, political appropriateness, and even style, and I never have found any real policy for what they're doing. I haven't had to revise anything I've written at another person's behest since...seventh grade, I think. I realise that their intent is not really to make me feel like I'm not an adult professional, but it sure does feel like it. Somehow, if I hadn't had my hours cut in half (and I'm the only person laid off at all still around), I don't think they'd be worried. Sigh. Believe it or not, I can be quite professional, even when frustrated. Very little actually had to be changed (and only one area, meant to show the positive changes that have gone into effect over time was scratched, since we couldn't show anything less than ideal to begin with)...but I had to give my boss the (hopefully) final draft before I can send it in.

Nervous because: In less than one hour I get to have a giant magnetised thing image my brain. Dwana managed to convince me that my fillings aren't going to go pinging into my brain, at least. :) But I'm also a little worried as to what they might find. Oh, well, it won't do any good to worry too much, will it?