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My narcoleptic tendencies have returned, forestalling me from attending the gym with the frequency that I mustered at the beginning of the quarter. Unless there’s a pressing duty which demands me to rouse earlier, I find myself turning left and blinking at Yeado’s clock. First it’ll say something like “8:42”. Then I’ll blink and it’ll read, “9:20” (too late for my gym trip). Then “10:10” then 11-something. It’s disconcerting, but it has yet to really hurt me.

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