Shit, I’m tired. It’s the completely expected side effect of spending the wee hours of the night pleading with my middle-aged body to STOP BITCHING AND LET ME SLEEP! Seriously. My brain, as regular readers well know, is still only about eleven years old, relatively speaking. But the rest of my body is decidedly 41 and not in the suburban milquetoast, I-lettered-in-chess-and-debate sort of way. I don’t have a gray hair on my head, but I can creak and snap and pop with the
best most pitiful of them. You haven’t heard the grinding crepitation of bone until you’ve sat next to me while I’m working on a piece of French bread. My jaw pops more than a poorly maintained two-stroke.
But last night it was an evil duel between my left shoulder and my right knee. The shoulder kept insisting that I sleep on my left side so that the weight of my left arm wasn’t pulling down on it and the knee demanded the exact opposite. The only possible compromise was for me to sleep flat on my back with my arms crossed over my chest like Dracula.
So I spent a lot of time last night staring at the ceiling and thinking about things like how it must take vampires a while to get up in the evening after their 300 year old bodies have just lain in the same exact position for ten to twelve hours. I also pondered some stupid stuff. Among the many profound conclusions drawn were:
♠ The number of dogs/cats one possesses is directly proportional to the chances of that person breaking their neck falling down the stairs or cross-sectioning their skull on the sharp edge of a fireplace hearth.
♠ Being able to score codeine in Canada is reason enough to finally get my passport.
♠ The best place for aliens and/or the government to implant a tracer chip would be in the perineum, because who the hell ever looks closely and/or feels around down there?
♠ Some sort of small animal (possibly with an asthma condition) uses my roof as a midnight shortcut.
♠ People with mustaches that go straight down to their chins like Morgan Spurlock’s always remind me of ventriloquist dummies.
♠ I’m old enough now to buy my own damn Krazy Straw, but now I agree with my mother that it would be impossible to clean.
♠ It’s a good thing I’m on vacation since I’m laying here at 3am thinking about a bunch of pointless shit.
So yeah, I'm hella tired. I need some coffee or something. I'd try going back to bed for more sleep, but I'm all sore from laying there for so long.