Stoned

Today's one of those rare days when I wish I didn't have to crawl out of bed.

Now I think I might have overdone it over the weekend. And I am absolutely burnt - mentally and superficially.

I could've had my coffees today laced, and I wouldn't have known the difference.




There's been this silly theory going 'round the Brood, 'bout how sleeping hours, waking hour and senility are all correlated.

In a nutshell, the less sleep you can survive on, the earlier you wake up (regardless of the time you'd slept), the older you're becoming.

Well, it's probably right, and if I could expand it further, this would be yet another of Fatmama's crap theories.

The older you become, the more you feel time should no longer be wasted like it had been in your youth, the more latent energy you ironically leash out, the more activities you try to cramp within a short twenty-four-hour day, the less you want to waste your precious time on unproductive sleep time, therefore the less you sleep, the earlier you rise.