I didn't go to bed exceptionally late last night. I wasn't drunk when I hit the pillow. And I am not on any medications. So it was surprising, when, this morning, I woke up to a room filled with the light of the breaking day and looked over at my alarm clock to see "7:52" splashed across the screen. I looked away as I always do to make sure I'm not lying on a Sheba turd she may have left for me in the night, and then it registered and my head flew back to the clock. Seven. Fifty. Two. That is 30 minutes AFTER I am supposed to be in my office, at my computer, pretending to get my work done.
After all was said and done, I was over an hour and a half late getting to work today, and I'm still pissed off about it. Nothing puts you in a bad mood like waking up realizing you're already behind. But on the bright side, I didn't have dog droppings all over my sheets, so maybe things are looking up after all.
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