I kind of cannot believe that I am going on a date this weekend. I have bags under my eyes the size of North Korea, every shirt I own is covered in coffee stains, and I may or may not have consumed an entire vending machine this week. It’s like, “OH HEY I’M YOUR BLIND DATE SORRY ABOUT THAT.”
A side effect of sleep deprivation and x-treme stress is that, every night this week, I have become increasingly punchy at work. I slur my words, I say inappropriate things to customers, I laugh hysterically at things that aren’t funny. I drop things. I try to drink whole coffee beans without grinding or brewing them.
Last night was some crazy culmination of my punch drunk hysteria, bringing me to the point that I was afraid to wait on customers because I kept giggling uncontrollably and singing to them.
And then I crawled home and I collapsed into bed and I fell asleep before my head had fully hit the pillow. And I dreamed an entire full-length dream that consisted solely of a baby polar bear cuddling with a baby koala.