I think that it was about four o'clock this morning when I finally fell into a restless sleep. I went to bed at midnight, feeling tired, but then I proceeded to toss and turn for four hours, sweating and uselessly trying to find a comfortable position. It's been a little bit of a bumpy week. I've made the mistake of letting stupid and sullen people get to me. One reason is my lack of a certain substance this week, and I'm not talking about Johnny Walker red either.
I'm tired of eating lunch alone everyday. I'm tired of working with hipsters, who are barely out of their twenties, but have somehow attained all the knowledge available. In fact, today I get to work with two of my least favorite people: a prima donna rock star (in her own mind anyway) and a tired looking hipster with a Hitlerian haircut.
But tomorrow is payday. It's Friday. There are a couple of reasons to put a smile on my fact. I may even get lucky and see a film in a theater. Might happen.
I should have just stayed up reading Stick until four this morning. It's a compelling thriller and reading all night would have been better than rolling around in my own sweat.
Now I must go and scrounge up some lunch somewhere. Never a fun task. I'm in a lunchtime rut, and need to find some way out of it. McDonald's ain't the answer.