Momnesia

Sleepy

I spent my day off like a sloth; a slug; jello.

3 a.m. - go to sleep after fiancee gets home from work.
4 a.m. - move to couch because sleep impossible with snoring, teeth-grinding, head-elbowing fiancee.
10 a.m. - move back to bed. Chirping birds must die.
11 a.m. - fiancee goes to work.
1:30 p.m. - move back to couch. Watch retarded, but highly entertaining, soap operas.
2:15 p.m. - eat lunch, which consists of 7 leftover tortilla chips and guacamole. Go back to sleep.
4 p.m. - Fiancee returns from work to check on me. zzzzzzzzzzz...... He goes back to work.
7:30 p.m. - phone rings. I forgot I was supposed to go see his parents. Oh, zzzzzzz.....
8:15 p.m. - Awaken again. Call his parents to apologize.
9:15 p.m. - Leave house to forage for food.
9:40 p.m. - Return so hungry, I’m nauseous. Some stupid SUV-driving superbitch took so long at the drive-thru that I found myself screaming out the window: “It’s not rocket science, lady! Order already!” The pregnant-me is going to get the normal-me shot. But the last thing I could make out was: “Is there any wheat or soy in the breading?” Note to readers: If you have questions about ingredients, get your ass out of the car and walk inside. The drive-thru person is directing your dumbass questions to the manager, who is running to read the product box, anyway. Save them the Olympic relay race, okay? Thanks.
9:40 to present - flip back and forth between number-named news programs. 60 Minutes. 20/20. 48-Hours. Why can’t they just be called honest names like: “Half-assed Investigative Reporting,” and “Emotional But Largely Unfounded Testimony.”
At present - Oddly enough, I’m feeling kind of sleepy..