Everything, everywhere, looks so comfortable. Is it because I’m so tired? Today I found myself wanting to use a Kleenex box as a pillow. (At least there is something soft on the inside?) Maybe I’m just delusional, but the space under my desk, on top of all of those cords, looks like it could fit a person easily. I got 8 hours of sleep last night too. What’s wrong with me?

Maybe they should study me while I sleep, and see what goes on. And I could get paid for it. I know you’re thinking, “Gee Dave, I’ve never thought of that.” Well guess what. I hope someone punches you in the face in the next few minutes. Grumpy? Who’s grumpy?

I’m tired. I can’t be held accountable for saying things (that I hope happen) when I’m tired. Normally my brain would stop such a negatively directed comment from leaving my thoughts. (I’d still think it though.) And I hope you’re not thinking, “But Dave, what if someone actually did punch me in the face? You’d feel terrible right?” Haha. No. I’d only hope a third person was hiding in the background with a video camera so I could catch the action on YouTube. Preferably, the video would start at the exact moment you decided to be a smart-allick-snob and then got punched in the face.

Anyway, if you weren’t thinking any of that, then I’m sorry. I’m just tired. And trapped in some sort of time paradox. How is it that the last 15 minutes of work feels longer than my hour commute home? How can I sleep 8 hours and feel like I’ve been awake for 36 after I wake up? Am I having really epic dreams? Maybe I should read some articles about sleep and see what I can come up with. It doesn’t make too much sense. I mean, I’ve been sleeping my whole life. You’d think I’d be good at it by now.

One of these days I’m going to go to the doctor and find out I have a legitimate problem and then feel stupid for not taking care of it before. But I think I’ll get angry if there is some mysterious way to correct my constant sleepiness. If I could have solved this problem when I was 12, I’d probably be a millionaire right now. My exuberant tiredness (oxymoron?) has held me back for that long. (Maybe I should get an editor.) There are always things to do or things I want to do, but that bed… and those pillows… They’re like a mini-orchestra playing the siren’s song. Always calling me. Never letting me leave. Goodness, I think I do have a problem.

Until I have a medical excuse though, I’m just complaining. Always too hot and always tired. That is pretty much the story of my life in 6 words.