Vacation, Happy to get away!

Apart from channeling the Go-Gos, I’m feeling so much better. If I had listened to M., I would have already known this factoid, but I didn’t so it was a pleasant surprise. That is, my flight doesn’t leave until almost 6 p.m. I have hours to get my shit together tomorrow. Yahoo! I will need every minute.

I am so tired, I can’t believe how tired I am. Definitely should have gotten more sleep this week, but sometimes I just hum a little Warren Zevon, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” and keep going. ‘Course he died, so maybe not the best role model.

I mostly finished everything at work. Mostly. My albatross project still follows my ship as a harbinger of doom. But, hey, what are you going to do?

Tomorrow, I wake more relaxed and well-rested and tomorrow night, M. and I will be together. Not so bad a life, I guess.

Here’s a little insight into how my mind works. When I finally got home tonight, I headed straight to the shower trying to relax. I decided to shave, and in some movement of massive anti-grace I managed to gouge my foot with the razor. It’s been pouring blood, and the shower ended up bearing a remarkable resemblance to the one in Psycho. Afterward, I realized I’m walking through the house dripping blood. My thought, “Cool, if something happens and I don’t come back from California, leading someone to search for me and search my house. They would find the blood and suspect foul play. Even better, I have kept telling people that I’m going for the long dirt nap by my own hands in honor of the big 4-0. Everyone would think I’d done it. Cool.”

Shit, I’m dying. I need sleep.