It's my day off. My first REAL day off. Don't have any edits to do, no meetings, no appointments, nothing. Allow me to explain; I haven't taken a day off for the past month while I've been clawing to secure myself into the coveted position of Public Affairs (see blog: Effed in the A). Knowing that I would be off the next day, I stayed up all night doing all the corrections for the kilo cruisebook and worrying about Julio's car accident, which turned out to be not as bad as I thought.
Now that my first issue was distributed (and very well recieved), and the cruisebook was finished, I could finally relax. Sleep in. Not worry about getting up at all. But I must run. I have a whole day to run.
6:00 a.m. BEEP BEEP (it's actually nice outside, get up and run)
8:00 a.m. BEEP BEEP (get up before the earth feels like it's going to burn you alive)
10:00 a.m. BEEP BEEP (now it's too hot, you fucker. why don't you at least stretch a little?)
12:00 p.m. BEEP BEEP (really?!? it feels like Satan's ass out there. fuck no)
1:00 p.m. wake up, eat a couple of Ritz crackers and some ghost marshmallows. watch Jon Stewart on my computer. nap
2:00 p.m. start reading a book, contemplate on walking to the gym. denied. contemplate on walking to the latrine. ...
......nah, too hot.
3:00 p.m. okay, now I'm really hungry. I polish off some more marshmallows. Hunger crisis averted. rack exit no longer necessary
5:00 p.m. It is imperative that I peel myself off this bed. gym? not until I eat some real food.
shower, change, call friend
...wait on friend....
...freak out about possibly losing keys that house the command camera...7:00 p.m. make it to Zone 1 where there is some sort of pathetic Oktoberfest celebration. Eat a brat. feel sick. head back.
9:00 p.m. Too sick to run, bedtime sounds better
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