I find myself in an interesting situation. I feel like a real person. Like my mom might feel on any given Saturday - not to say that my dearest mother leads a dull life, quite the contrary! It's just funny that I am perplexed at not being a hungover piece of shit right now.
It started yesterday, after a busy week getting back into the swing of things at work, I decided a nap was in order. I watched Episode 7 of Jersey Shore in my bed before succumbing to slumber around 7:00pm.
I always wake up before my alarm. I'm a terrible sleeper. I like being awake too much. I assumed my natural urge to dummy bottles of cheap pear brandy would arouse me when the time felt right (the pear one is my favourite, by the way). I didn't set an alarm.
At 1:00am I found myself in the grips of a confused daze. My Friday night effectively poleaxed. I ate some stir-fry and watched the two most recent episodes of 30 Rock; squinting the entire time, as though the dim range light that hovered above my wok is the 7:00pm sun assaulting my retinas through a windshield as I idle in a never-ending snake of a traffic jam. I crawled back to my bed.
This morning, nearly 12 hours of sleep later I'm up, drinking coffee, listening to Dispatch and crossing items off my to do list with ruthless efficiency. I'm off to run some errands. I'm going to buy a new memory card for my camera (current is broken) and take pictures of communist hilarity to try and give you a feel for this Eastern-European-winter vibe.
Bruce Springsteen on Broadway
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