The glow of the terminal screen burns into my retinas like a bad omen. Another night, another battle fought in the trenches of development.

I'm knee-deep in the guts of this thing - Blender open on workspace 3, Godot lurking on workspace 1, and a dozen terminal windows spitting out enough debug logs to make a sane man question his life choices. The Linux setup's holding, though. Like a trusty old revolver that jams just often enough to keep things interesting.

Assets are coming together. Slowly. Painfully. Like pulling teeth from a demon that really doesn't want to part with them. Every texture, every rigged mesh - they all take a piece of my soul with them. But when they click into place in Godot's scene tree? That's the good shit. The kind of satisfaction that almost makes up for the hours lost.

Almost.

The wife's back. And she's being... present. Demanding attention like some kind of flesh-and-blood dependency error. Don't get me wrong - I love the woman. But every dinner date, every "let's watch a movie," it's all time stolen from the work. The goddamn work that needs doing.

She says I'm obsessed. Maybe she's right. But when you've got visions of hellscapes burning behind your eyelids, what choice do you have but to exorcise them onto the screen?

Progress is happening. Slower than I'd like, but it's happening. The pipeline's solid - Blender to Godot, with just enough black magic in between to make it interesting. The demons are taking shape, both in code and in art. And Eva? Oh, she's coming along nicely. Too nicely. Sometimes I swear I can hear her whispering from the .tscn files.

The coffee's cold. The night's old. And the work... the work never ends.

Stay tuned, sinners.

P.S. If anyone knows a good florist that delivers at 3AM, hit me up. Just in case.