The problem with having worked only one day in the past nine is ... well, okay, there's nothing wrong with that. The problem with having sat in my apartment for probably a total of 6 of the last nine days is that 2:56am feels really no different from 2:56pm. I feel hazy and unmotivated, and yet perky enough to actually do something should the mood strike. I should be snoozing like the Mickster is right now since the two of us split nearly a fifth of tequila about two hours ago, but I've already been drunk, hung over, and resobered once today, so I don't feel a damn thing. I've watched all of my Judge Judys from the week, and my legs are sore from sitting. My legs have no business being sore, unless of course they've atrophied, but I think that should take longer, really. That guy in Se7en lasted a whole year. I feel like I should do something with this time, since I am awake and all, but I don't want to make myself more awake from getting up and doing something. I hope it keeps snowing. I don't want to go to work on Monday.