Lethargy...AHOY
I am tired. Very tired. Inexplicably tired. I am convinced I either have mono or I am turning into a male version of my mother. In a couple weeks, I will probably start getting hot flashes.
To exemplify my somewhat newfound yet, unwanted lethargic nature, I will recount my behavior over the past couple of days. Last Friday rolled around like any other Friday. I went to work like all the other mindless drones and stared at a computer screen, feeling drained the entire day. I expected this, I mean hey, it was Friday. I did just push my self through 4, 9 hour mindless days. So being a little lethargic come the fifth day should be expected. I get back home and instantly pass out. I lay down and enter the unconscious bliss known you normal people as sleep. After this nap, I awake only to find myself feeling even worse than before. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I questioned myself, like I often do when I am alone (i.e. 80% of time, I think this makes me clinically insane). "Well, first of all jackass, you never get enough sleep, and your mild insomnia is probably starting to kill you," I said in surly Moe-like voice, Knyuck-Knyuck. "SONOFBITCH!" I respond in a heavy Romanian accent (assuming I actually know what a Romanian accent sounds like). This insane soliliquy/insane outer monologue goes on for about 4 hours as I hobble around my cesspool of an apartment while bumping into objects (like walls) like some sort of mentally handicapped (retarded) Mr. Magoo. On average, I end up saying "SONOFBITCH" ten times a day, yielding further reason for people to avoid me.
Next thing I know, I am back in bed, probably crying myself to sleep as always, and soon find comfort in the sweet bosom of the dream realm once again.
Saturday and Sunday roll around and the same thing happens. Nothing gets done except some modest vacuuming which in turn, destroys my vacuum. Being the cheapskate I am, I know I will never buy a vacuum, since luxuries like clean floors are not valid enough to deserve the purchase of a 50 dollar appliance. I bump into more walls, cry, and realize that I have been walking around wearing week-old boxers. In response to this disgusting revelation, I just roll back into bed for a nice pre-noon nap that lasts for a solid 3 hours. Fun. Luckily, my land-lord broke the monotony by teaching me how to properly shoot a shotgun. Much to my surprise, I actually was able hit the very broad side of a very large barn. You hear that farmhouses?! You are no longer safe from my modest shooting abilities! No longer will you lord your superiority over me, as I long as I can put some buckshot into your very broad walls. Fear me, or know my wrath. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAH. But I digress...
The point (if any) that I am trying to make is that, a weekend of pure sleep and nigh-inactivity, resulted in me being just as lethargic, if not more today. In conclusion, I either have mono or I am officially over 50 years old and female. Since I have done nothing in years that could induce mono (Yeah it's pretty damn sad. Go ahead and laugh. It's funny. And sad) the only logical conclusion a la' Sherlock Holmes is that I am at least 50 years old and female. It's official folks. I am old. Very Old. Inexplicably impossibly old. And I am going through Metapuase. Hurrah.
To exemplify my somewhat newfound yet, unwanted lethargic nature, I will recount my behavior over the past couple of days. Last Friday rolled around like any other Friday. I went to work like all the other mindless drones and stared at a computer screen, feeling drained the entire day. I expected this, I mean hey, it was Friday. I did just push my self through 4, 9 hour mindless days. So being a little lethargic come the fifth day should be expected. I get back home and instantly pass out. I lay down and enter the unconscious bliss known you normal people as sleep. After this nap, I awake only to find myself feeling even worse than before. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I questioned myself, like I often do when I am alone (i.e. 80% of time, I think this makes me clinically insane). "Well, first of all jackass, you never get enough sleep, and your mild insomnia is probably starting to kill you," I said in surly Moe-like voice, Knyuck-Knyuck. "SONOFBITCH!" I respond in a heavy Romanian accent (assuming I actually know what a Romanian accent sounds like). This insane soliliquy/insane outer monologue goes on for about 4 hours as I hobble around my cesspool of an apartment while bumping into objects (like walls) like some sort of mentally handicapped (retarded) Mr. Magoo. On average, I end up saying "SONOFBITCH" ten times a day, yielding further reason for people to avoid me.
Next thing I know, I am back in bed, probably crying myself to sleep as always, and soon find comfort in the sweet bosom of the dream realm once again.
Saturday and Sunday roll around and the same thing happens. Nothing gets done except some modest vacuuming which in turn, destroys my vacuum. Being the cheapskate I am, I know I will never buy a vacuum, since luxuries like clean floors are not valid enough to deserve the purchase of a 50 dollar appliance. I bump into more walls, cry, and realize that I have been walking around wearing week-old boxers. In response to this disgusting revelation, I just roll back into bed for a nice pre-noon nap that lasts for a solid 3 hours. Fun. Luckily, my land-lord broke the monotony by teaching me how to properly shoot a shotgun. Much to my surprise, I actually was able hit the very broad side of a very large barn. You hear that farmhouses?! You are no longer safe from my modest shooting abilities! No longer will you lord your superiority over me, as I long as I can put some buckshot into your very broad walls. Fear me, or know my wrath. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAH. But I digress...
The point (if any) that I am trying to make is that, a weekend of pure sleep and nigh-inactivity, resulted in me being just as lethargic, if not more today. In conclusion, I either have mono or I am officially over 50 years old and female. Since I have done nothing in years that could induce mono (Yeah it's pretty damn sad. Go ahead and laugh. It's funny. And sad) the only logical conclusion a la' Sherlock Holmes is that I am at least 50 years old and female. It's official folks. I am old. Very Old. Inexplicably impossibly old. And I am going through Metapuase. Hurrah.
posted by Blackthorne at 6:47 PM
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