Those of you who have had a Tuesday are lucky. I’ve had a tue at most. No s. Not much of a day. Insomnia hanging over from Monday into the ridiculous hours of tue ensured that the s and the day just weren’t part of my experience. What a bag of festering fuck.
It’s not new, this lack of day, with or without additional letters: I’ve been an insomioniacist since childhood. Because of stuff. Domestic crap stuff. If you know what I mean you don’t need to ask and if you don’t know what I mean you won’t want to ask.
So effectively my entire life has been punctuated by periods of no sleepy, no sleepy, no sleepy, TOTALLY UNCONSCIOUS, no sleepy no sleepy, no sleepy. Etc.
Poor me. If you don’t pity me you’re cruel and heartless and I hope you turn into dog poo the next time you have a lovely restful sleep. If you do pity me you’re wasting energy as your pity doesn’t alter my sleep patterns. Nor does hitting myself over the head with an anvil. Shame, as I have countless anvils littering up the place as though I expect cartoon violence to define my days.
One of these nights I’ll catch the pigeon/road runner/meeces and sleep like a baby. An animation baby with gigantic eyes.