more tired than you. probably.

I slept all day. In a headspinning delirious sort of way. I had a beer for breakfast at the pub downstairs. I guess it was technically lunch, I was hanging out with my dad and his union friends. But man, it put me out.

I toddled upstairs and hit the floor for a nap. Nevermind that I had friends over. Nope, just needed to sleep.

I woke up when my friends left at about four in the afternoon. Then I was bored and ronery. So I opted to hit the couch.
I woke up at nine-thirty with a call from Dahn. An invitation to come over for pizza. Sounded great. I didn't move from the couch though... I was sleeping. I woke up at ten thirty and called the outing a lost cause, then I slept.

And now it's three in the morning. I am awake. My apartment is a disaster and all of my friends are sleeping, like the sane people that they are.

Urgh. Sleep! Come back to me! The internet is a boring place! I have to do things tomorrow!

shhhh.

I came home to two sleeping boys in my bed. Oh sleepy boys, so endearing in their bleary-eyed attempts at speech. I will leave them be, for they are friends and as such they are always welcome in my home.

I do love to have a home I can offer to people. My hospitality is different than my mothers or my aunt's. My place is rarely clean. Supper's late and so am I. But I love people, so I sort of open the door, open the fridge and invite my dear ones to help themselves.

To my red couch I go. I sleep on it most nights anyway. It's pretty awesome. I work tomorrow. You should visit me at the Spill during the day. I'll pour you a coffee.

I tso finsisfh my sessays.

I am going to type this whithout fixping typis even a little bit just lie my friend noah did onec

I have bt slept in a while. I didnt sleep last night. Now I;m going to steep for a coupel of hours.

man, I cant even toype
0
ALL FIVE ARE DONE. YAY ME!

Let the games begin.

And I have managed to do it again. This time, uglier than before!

Five papers. 37 hours. 11,000 words total.

All work must be in by four o clock on Friday afternoon. If it is not. I will lose my year. Or be eaten by crocodiles. I'm not sure which is worse at this point.

So, my hair is standing up. I'm waiting for Petes to open in four hours so I can buy smokes. I'm hoping to have a paper done before breakfast tomorrow. My breakfast is caffeine and cigarettes by the dozen.

Some sick part of me has got to LOVE this, for me to do this every time.

I'm tired I'm -

(my building. my apartment is the one right in the middle, on the second floor, with the special arched window)

It's three thirty. I have one silly page to write before I can sleep. Just one silly page and I can't seem to push it out. I hung out with a friend and her daughter and son tonight. They are nocturnal. They left just over an hour ago. They managed to tire me out.

In other, more history making news, my apartment is almost clean. Sweet glorious yes.
My livingroom-type-area (hey it's a loft, so there aren't exactly rooms per se) ... It's totally put together.
My dishes, (my shame!) are nearly eradicated.
My kitchen table is free of debris.
I can see my floor.
I swept.

My friend reworked my cupboards. My cupboards I say!

My cloffice (the closet/office) is still a disaster. I spend a lot of time in this closet. (har har)
It shows. There are three empty jugs of chocolate soymilk on the floor. Three. fucksakes.

My bedroom is also still a mess. But that's just means I need to consolidate dirty clothes and make the bed.

I also need to scrub the bathroom and finish the dishes (my shame!)

And then, oh then my living space will be clean. And that will be a glad day, considering that I will be holed up in this here apartment for the next week. Five essays kiddios. Five. fucksakes!

Okay. To my one silly page.