You guys, oh, YOU GUYS. I woke up before my alarm today. Granted, the alarm was set for 10:30, but STILL. Awake! Before my alarm! All just lying there reading emails and checking Instagram and then Twitter, and oh hell, why not Facebook too, I’VE GOT THE TIME. And I wonder if any apps need to be updated. And by the time I had opened every app on my phone twice MY ALARM STILL HADN’T GONE OFF. I even squeezed my eyes shut and chanted, “back to sleep, back to sleep, back to sleep” like it would do something. Until I realized mid-chant that I didn’t need to go back to sleep. I wasn’t tired.
I WASN’T TIRED, YOU GUYS.
This? This hasn’t happened in two years. I’ve gotten a day or two of decent sleep where my body just basically says, oh fuck this shit and essentially shuts down for 24 hours. But I’ve gotten almost an entire week’s worth of solid sleep. I don’t expect this to last, but good hell am I enjoying it while I can.
Sleep has not made me any less of a nutjob, however. Apparently that aspect is here to stay. I like to blame my terrible memory, my moodswings, the weather, my uncombed hair, basically anything I can on the fact that I rarely sleep. But now that I have had all the sleeps, I don’t think I can excuse away the fact that when I found out my darling friend was getting her appendix out my first thought was, “I MUST SING HER SOFT KITTY!” So, I did. (Surgery is a kind of sick. It totally applies.) And part way through leaving what can only be described as the most angelic version of Soft Kitty ever the cat came out looking all, “Wait, who’s sick. Why are we singing Soft Kitty?” Not to be confused with this face (which I’m belatedly realizing you can’t actually see):
Which is his NO I DO NOT WANT A BATH ZOMG WHY ARE WE IN HEREEEEEE LET ME DOWN OMG NO BATHS! face.
And that is my Dude take a breath face.
And now, the third week of January, as seen from my phone.
Someone I love. He’s 13 in this photo. We met when he was 6 weeks old. Oof.
