Royal Jackwagon

I’m not even sure what happened last night can be counted as sleep.  I feel like it can be described as brief moments of unconsciousness followed immediately by hallucinogenic moments of semi-reality.  I don’t know if it was the cold medicine, or what.  In the 2.5 seconds of unconsciousness I would get, I would be plunged immediately into some sort of nightmare.  It was as if even my dreams had ADD. 

My semi-reality moments were plagued with visions of shadows across the hall, and at one moment what I thought was a hand reaching over my bed.  I am pretty sure I moved so fast across the bed that it could have qualified for some kind of special effect in the matrix. 

Once I had checked the house for the 17th time and reassured myself that I was completely mental and that no one had broken into my house… I went back to bed.  Only to have it start all over again.  The clock was tormenting me.  I’d get what I thought was sleep, and it would let me know that I had successfully not looked at the clock for 7 minutes.  Superb.

I “wake up”, which I’m not even sure is the correct term for peeling myself off my sheets this morning, to find that I must have had a fever when I went to bed and spent the night sweating it off.  Frankenstein’s wife would have been riddled with jealousy over the hairdo that greeted me in the bathroom mirror.  Even I stood there, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth… poking at what appeared to be magical amounts of volume and angles that defied geometry.

I walked on the treadmill, which I’m not quite sure I should have done given my less than aware state.  I wouldn’t say I was the sharpest tool in the shed, hell… I wouldn’t even say I was the dullest… I was the tool left outside of the shed, in the rain to rust.

I got ready at a glacial pace.  I know it was glacial because even the country music I was listening too seemed a little too upbeat and cheery this morning.  I kept glaring at the radio… you know… because it can totally sense my glare and annoyance and do something about it (mental eye roll at myself).

Thank god I hadn’t relied on the lunch elves to make my lunch… I couldn’t have handled the disappointment if they had been on a union strike or something.  I grabbed my lunch from the fridge and headed out.

Just my luck… I am greeted with a car that appears to be driving erratically.  Let’s remember that I am sleep deprived and medicated.  It takes me a full 60 seconds to realize that the jackwagon (spell check is demanding I change that to two words, I refuse… suck it, spell check) in front of me is driving with his rear wheels locked up.  Completely… locked up.  This seems completely on par with the rest of my morning.  So I give said jackwagon about 60 additional seconds to get his mentally handicapped ass out of my way.  He does not comply, so I gracefully cross a median, median little garden, and another car… to get around him.

I continue on my drive to work effortlessly, however at one point discover that now I am in fact the jackwagon that is in a medicated fog and NOT driving the speed limit.  Completely unacceptable.  So, naturally I speed up and pass all the cars that just passed me… totally upgrading myself to Royal Jackwagon.
I park in the ramp downtown… take a good 3 minutes extra in the car patting myself down to make sure I have everything.  Once convinced that I was not going to leave anything important behind… I climb out of the car and walk to work. 

Even the homeless people don’t ask me for change this morning.  They know.

I am now at work.  I am out of splenda and in need of coffee.  I’m taking this news in stride… for now.  Only because I saw chocolate cake in the refrigerator.  Come hell or high water… I will enjoy a piece of that cake today. 

I feel better now that I have shared my morning.

More.
Coffee.

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