I’ll be honest with you all. Today pretty much sucked. In fact, the suck rating is so high that it’s only 5pm and I’m willing to bet that the time between now and bed will also suck pretty hard, too.
After having a really motivated night, I crawled into bed, fell asleep within 10 minutes and only woke up once last night. That’s kind of a new record for me. Unfortunately, when I woke up in the morning, it was more like a scene from Shaun of the Dead than that bitch Snow White being woken up with her kiss. I walked into two doorframes, nearly tripped over my pants while trying to have my morning pee, eventually made it back to the kitchen and tried to make a bowl of cereal sans bowl, put my phone in the fridge and took the milk back to my desk to send a text.
On the upside, I still had a visit from my sister and her incredibly adorable spawn to look forward to, right? Yeah, about that. I got the following message from my body:
Yeah, we know you had plans and all, but there’s been some scheduled maintenance for a week now set for today. Oh, you didn’t get the memo? Well, we sent it out. Clearly the issue is on your end. Anyway, back to the mainta- … Yes. We’re aware that we could have scheduled the work to be done while you were asleep already, but you’re sick. We figured you wouldn’t have plans anyway.
Oh. You DO have plans? Well, we didn’t get the memo. (Further proof the issue is on YOUR end, not ours) Point is, you needed to be asleep an hour ago. Don’t like it? Too bad. We’re hitting system shut down in 5 minutes. You can either be in bed where you’re comfy, or wake up drooling on the keyboard again.
So, aside from coming to the conclusion that my body is a complete, engorged, throbbing dick, I did my best and lived in hope. Surely I only needed an hour or two of sleep, right? I could pick back up in the afternoon, still see family, maybe even cook dinner for everyone and we’d have an awesome time, right? RIGHT?
Gogo 4:20pm. I wrench my eyes open to the sound of my phone screaming at me for the 3rd time in the last 20 minutes as manthing attempts to ascertain whether I’m actually around or whether I’ve eloped with the postman. I manhandle my phone to mash out something semi-coherent, letting him know I’m still alive (fat thumbs do not a touchpad’s friend make), try to make sense of the platitude of nightmares I had to deal with (everything from being at a carnival to suddenly being Arwen from LoTR, being back at home, trying to run away with Ron Weasly, calling the police on my father and then trying to retrieve a precious set of books from the garage. Meds are fun, kids!) and then before you know it, it’s time to jump in the car, get petrol, get dinner and try not to maul anyone at the shopping centre.
On the upside for today, I don’t have to cook dinner. Yay.