Sing a song of sixpence...
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye.
The birds are in the nests and I wish so were I.
I don't know why I'm conscious, I'm wobbly and more,
I think there's a good chance I'll wind up face-down on the floor!
It is four-thirty in the morning. I have already been awake for an hour, and at work for forty-five minutes. I do not consider this entirely right, fair, or proper, but as I do not control the flow of time (much as I might sometimes wish I did), I'm being forced to live with it. Be prepared for increasing non-linearity as the day passes by.
Sleeping at Julie's was an interesting experience, as I pretty much just rambled at her for an hour in the live-action equivalent of my nightly toaster-shaking, and then passed out cold a little bit after eight, not waking up until the taxi arrived. Hello, the taxi. While I definitely wouldn't want to do this every day (which is good, 'cause Julie'd never let me), it was reasonably painless, and I am exceedingly grateful. I may pay for my gratitude later, especially since my taxing upon her patience included seeing A Very Lousy Movie (Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer BROUGHT THE DUMB, yo. There wasn't enough dumb, so they brought us some extra...).
My back still hurts, although marginally less than it did yesterday, which leads me to hope, at least a little, that this is going to be one of those 'you have done too much, back off' incidents, rather than one of the 'now you will SUFFER THE WRATH OF ZOD' incidents. Because those displease me intensely.
Being awake is hard.
The birds are in the nests and I wish so were I.
I don't know why I'm conscious, I'm wobbly and more,
I think there's a good chance I'll wind up face-down on the floor!
It is four-thirty in the morning. I have already been awake for an hour, and at work for forty-five minutes. I do not consider this entirely right, fair, or proper, but as I do not control the flow of time (much as I might sometimes wish I did), I'm being forced to live with it. Be prepared for increasing non-linearity as the day passes by.
Sleeping at Julie's was an interesting experience, as I pretty much just rambled at her for an hour in the live-action equivalent of my nightly toaster-shaking, and then passed out cold a little bit after eight, not waking up until the taxi arrived. Hello, the taxi. While I definitely wouldn't want to do this every day (which is good, 'cause Julie'd never let me), it was reasonably painless, and I am exceedingly grateful. I may pay for my gratitude later, especially since my taxing upon her patience included seeing A Very Lousy Movie (Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer BROUGHT THE DUMB, yo. There wasn't enough dumb, so they brought us some extra...).
My back still hurts, although marginally less than it did yesterday, which leads me to hope, at least a little, that this is going to be one of those 'you have done too much, back off' incidents, rather than one of the 'now you will SUFFER THE WRATH OF ZOD' incidents. Because those displease me intensely.
Being awake is hard.