It’s one of those late afternoons where I can’t get off the couch. I thought about running, but I’m just too tired. I’ll go tomorrow morning, after work. I got stuck working a 14 hour shift until 9am this morning, on my Monday, which means when I went to bed this morning I’d been up for something like 26 hours. I wanted to get an eight-hour sleep and sleep till 6pm, but instead Adah started jumping on my head at 4pm. I got up, but I got up surly.
I hate getting up surly like that. (She hates it, too…. wink, nudge.) I growled my way to feeding them, growled my way to making coffee. I rubbed my eyes after petting the cats (I’m allergic), and while I was running my eyes under water, I bumped my forehead on the faucet and then stuck myself in the eyeball with the allergy eye-drops.
Oh, and I’m nursing a grand bruise on my left forearm — it’s where I caught the weight of my body as I fell going up the front stairs yesterday. I suppose falling going up stairs beats falling while going down them, but it still sucks. (My most spectacular fall up stairs was when I tripped while holding beer bottles. They broke on the concrete stairs right before I landed on them, cutting my stomach in fine little stripes. Nothing serious, but annoying and highly embarrassing. Plus I had to buy more beer. I was a little late to the party.)
And my eyelashes hurt.
Grumble. I only grumble like this when I’m this tired. Or when I’m out of Cadbury Creme Eggs. Which I’m not, so I should just eat one and shut up. Right? Right.
Digit would like you to know that he is not grumpy for once in his life. Transference, you know.
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