All day I have been unable to shake this heavy, comatose feeling. All day I've felt as if I was hallucinating, zoning out, and thinking things that were not true. (What? You mean I'm not... well, shit!). And that, my gentle reader(s) (<-- ambitious), should not be the case. Because I went to bed at 8 last night. Eight. The one that comes after seven, which is BEFORE IT IS COMPLETELY DARK OUTSIDE.
But then my alarm went off.
Startled, I reached out and flipped to switch from buzz to off. To no avail.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Ahn. Ahn. Ahn. I. Hate. You. Death. Die. Kill. Beep.
Growling slightly, my brows furrowed, I punch the snooze.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I punch it again, this time more forcefully.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I've officially reached the pissed off stage and I bash at the offending snooze button with all the restraint of a stampede.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Swearing obscenities under my breath (or not because we all know I live alone) and fuming, I yank the damn thing from it's spot on my window ledge and rip the cord out of the wall.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
SONOFABITCH! I am so frustrated I'm crying at this point as I flip the damn thing over and tear out the battery because THE BEEPING MUST EFFING STOP. STOP IT. STOP NOW!
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I throw down the alarm in defeat feeling spent and annoyed beyond anything I've ever felt before IN MY FREAKING LIFE.
And then I woke up. To find out I'd overslept and needed to leave the house in five minutes if I was going to make the biweekly staff meeting on time.
Now, why, I ask you, do I not have cool dreams? Crazy dreams? Sexy dreams? I mean, damn. I could use a really good sexy dream. One with someone tall, dark, and handsome and preferably not bovine. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?! Because this fake alarm from hell shit IS NOT CUTTING IT.
Someone. Anyone. Tell me a sexy dream.
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3 comments:
Last night felt like a fever dream. Remember that scene in Fight Club where Brad Pitt just keeps egging the mob boss on to punch him in the face? It pretty much ended with Pitt's face looking like hamburger, and the mob boss walking away with a freaked out kind of look on his face.
Same thing in my dream, but I ended up spitting in the guys face from the ground. Yep, for some reason, it seemed like a good idea to try and spit at someone who was six feet higher than me when I was prone.
The funny thing about narcolepsy is that you can go into REM when you're still awake, and you can wake up in the middle of a REM cycle and still be dreaming. That spitting - not so much in my dream. More like real life. Slipped on it getting out of bed today.
Yes, my life is a giant cartoon.
That, Michael, was not a sexy dream.
Funny. But not sexy.
I don't have sexy dreams. I don't have a sexy life either, so it's not that big of a change.
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