the question that instantly forms on one's lips is why the hell don't i just go to bed? why don't i, huh?
the answer is so bloody embarrassing that it embarrasses me to even mention it, on account of it making me all embarrassed with the embarrassment of it.
ok, here it is: i am too bloody lazy to wash the make-up off my face, to floss and brush my teeth, and to take my clothes off, and since it is a part of my unspoken contract with myself that i do not go to bed with make-up on, with a crusty dentition and with clothes on, so i linger on the couch, hoping against all hope that somehow, somewhere, someone will twist the fabric of space time in such a way that i will suddenly find myself clean-faced, squeaky-toothed and nekkid, in my goddamn bed.
a girl can dream.
this happens a lot with me, and while i give mister monkey shit for failing to go to bed at a reasonable hour given his 4 am wake-up, i keep putting off the rituals that precede my own bedtime which then put me to bed past my natural sleepy time and i get overtired and cranky and insomniac and then bitch about it here.
LIFE IS SO BLOODY UNFAIR!!! WAAAAAAH!!!