Laughing matters...

This is going to be an attempt at not taking myself so seriously, but I honestly don't know if I'm capable of it. It seems to me that I try to weigh off the amount of humor against the amount of graveness very carefully, but that I get bogged down in the latter very often. That is my perception anyway. It may be a skewed point of view, but that's how I see it. 

It's in the middle of the night and I'm having my inevitable cups coffee. I'm still waiting for them to wake me up properly and to put some pizazz into my writing. If they're not going to soon, I'm switching to cold milk. I want to get a little high out of the caffeine and if I'm not getting that, there's no point in drinking them. I'm still yawning and may have gotten up when I shouldn't have. 

I very easily could have continued sleeping after I went to the toilet, but I had to be stubborn and stay up. I have to be fully awake by 7 am because I have an appointment at 8:50 am. I have to go see the woman at my GP's practice who's going to help me quit smoking. That doesn't leave me much time to get any extra sleep and at noontime I have an appointment with my psychiatrist. It does pay to be alert by that time. 

I woke up with my short hair sticking up all over the place. I look like a stick figure that a child drew. That's the one drawback about having short hair. It does look funny when you've slept on it. I'll have to wash it every day to get it to look nice. That's no real hardship, of course. It's in place and dry in no time at all.

I have to go back to bed for a while. I feel that my whole body needs it. I'll have to set the alarm clock and hope I make it up on time. I'm going to set it for 8 o'clock. That should give me enough time to get my act together. 

Have a good day.

Ciao,

Nora