So, last night I was flying high on my jet lag. I usually spend the last couple of hours of Drunken Knitting blinking and yawning, but yesterday I was still wide awake when we all started to go home. I didn’t go to sleep until 2 a.m., which seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. It was only when the alarm went off and I had to get ready for a birthday breakfast with my parents & the Blake did it start to seem excessive.
I never thought I’d be in a stage in which simply staying up past 10 would be an achievement. Hello, 32. To greet you, let’s spend the day trying to figure out what died and went to hell in the fridge. Maybe it was my diurnal nature.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*