it is one of those mornings when it physically hurt to get out of bed. you know what i'm talkin' about.
i hear the alarm screaming at me (well, lately i've been waking up to the chris cox mix of britney's first 5 years of hits), and i want to cry.
i snooze. in the past week, i've snoozed twice. i never snooze.
"do i have to?" yes, m-dawg (that's what i call myself in my pep talks), you do! you're an adult now. a desk is waiting for you.
"call in sick?" stop it. you know The Secret. if you tell them you're sick, you're gonna get sick. you learned that lesson last spring when you lied to your internship coordinator about being sick so you could sleep in with A, and subsequently got the flu for 4 days.
ok, then, a few more minutes. but no. atticus is already sniffing my head, licking my ears, and slowly walking on my blanket-covered crotch, which still hurts because i have to pee.
i really do have to get up.
coffee helps. so does the prospect of breakfast: today, re-heated lasagna from last night's entourage premiere party.
and i tell myself, "tonight i'm getting 10 hours of sleep. it will feel so good to get up tomorrow morning." but nobody is tired at 8:30, unless maybe you work in a coal mine. but you don't. because you wouldn't be reading my blog. you'd think i'm an elitist like obamarama.
i guess mondays are supposed to be like this, huh?
it's the price we all pay for having fun, rather than catching up on sleep and laundry, every weekend.
when will we learn?
a few more mondays like today, and i might actually change my ways... ?