Almost Awake

Not yet awake.

I hear the mice in the ceiling again. I’m definitely calling the landlord today. Not now, though. Maybe later.

I’m not hungry but I will be. I should probably figure out what to eat before that happens. Always be prepared. I’m a webelo.

I can’t believe I lost my keys. I have spares for them all – but still. Some wacko is feverishly jamming my keys into every car, house and padlock across the city. Eventually he’ll get it right. I’ll get raped or something.

Still not awake.

How am I supposed to drink eight glasses of water a day? I can’t even commit to eight beers a day and alcoholism is a disease. No one has interventions for water drinkers.

Man, I should just pick a girl and end it. But how do I know which one? I see plenty of fat people who have made their decision. They walk around, fat hands clasped. On their way home to share an ice cream cake.

Should I leave the apartment to get food or just make something? Eating out kills more time but I should finish that expensive organic crap I have in the fridge. You have to be rich to eat healthy. And a hippie.

Almost awake.

Restlessness is the worst. It leads to depression. Depression leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. The sun’s coming up and suddenly I’m Yoda.

I’m not calling the landlord today. I don’t want that creepy, halfling handyman here again. I should probably be less judgmental. Maybe he’s a great dad. To his creepy children.

Waffles. That’ll do. And I guess I’ll choke down a glass of water. I just remembered I have a date tonight. That’s cool. Oh, the mice have stopped scurrying. They always go to sleep as soon as I’m…

Awake.