Eff. Effin' A.
My plans for the fast-approaching morning had first of all been to get a good night's sleep after having wandered the zoo all day. Then, somewhere between spending money I didn't have on a get-well gift (not to say that my no-money wouldn't be well-spent), and loading up on effervescent vitamins, I was also planning to simultaneously paint my room and do all of my laundry. By the time six o'clock rolled around, I was supposed to be energetically making my way down to my first practice (and following team-run) in almost a week.
And yet, here I am at four-thirty in the morning--slouching so low in front of a monitor I'm practically sitting on my back--alt-tabbing from blog to blog, game to game. Why? No reason. It just seems like it would take more energy to get up and crawl into bed rather than just continue to zombie-out, waiting for the sky to get light out. Sometimes I wish somebody would just turn me off.
(Oh eff, did I just shove my foot in my mouth again? Effin'.)
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