This afternoon I found myself on a train. With other people. Which sucks. As previously established, I’m not very good at trains.
Sitting directly behind me was a mother, who I’m sure was a teenager in the 90’s, and her three children. The eldest, a girl that couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, kept singing a single line from Aqua’s Cartoon Heroes. Over and over again. Very loudly.
I don’t use the snooze button. Never have, never will. I set my alarm to go off at the last possible minute to try and choke all the potential sleep out of the nights lungs.
Sleep is rad.
The snooze button. Whether it’s on your phone, alarm clock or whatever. I just don’t get it. At its absolute base level – hitting the snooze button means that you’ve set your alarm to go off before you need it to go off. Before you need to get out of bed.
I woke up this morning in my shower, with the water still running, and suffering from a Memento-esque memory haze. Apparently, after a night of significant revelry, I decided to have shower upon returning home. No big deal.
But the plot thickens. By inadvertently blocking the drain with my highly intoxicated self half an inch of water now covers the floor across the entirety of my apartment.
Despite having absolutely no idea how to deal with the copious amount of unwanted water I reflect on how thankful I am that my apartment didn’t come with a bathtub.
This morning I received a phone call from a woman I’ve never met. She told me her name was Tina and that she wanted to talk to me about insurance. It took every ounce of my self control not to state in a frustrated tone “Tina, you fat lard, come get some dinner.”