Yesterday, my boss sent me home after I mentioned something about my throat, ulcers, and I may have thrown in a pus reference or two. I went home, and did nothing, but did discover that House is starting again and so is a new series of The Amazing Race (I couldn't find a link without spoilers), so I'm thinking that I may be able to watch TV again without throwing the remote in disgust.

Today. Today is a Rostered Day Off.

Two beefy delivery boys paid me a visit and delivered a heap of boxes and a big rectangular springy thing.

Then, I made this:



With my hands and God Damn Allen Key. Or a G-DAK for short. The bed AND the fricking bedside tables. I even heaved the Bloody Heavy mattress onto the frame and put sheets on it.

I am very tired.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Allen was one of Satan's pseudonyms, because why a normal person would create such an infuriating instrument of UTTER TORTURE I don't know. The rest of the world was happy using bloody screwdrivers, but not Mr. Allen. No. He wanted to PISS EVERYONE OFF.

I am annoyed, and bruised, but I built a bed. So it's ok.

Things I can do on my new Grown-Up Bed that I couldn't do before:

• Stretch out and roll around without falling onto the floor.
• Shag. Oh wait, NEVER HAPPENS.
• Sleep either lengthways or widthways, if widthways is a word.
• Leap from one side to the other when I'm, you know, happy.
• Invite girls around and have them all sit on my bed while we do eachother's hair and talk about boys.
• Yoga.
• Pfft, as if I could do yoga.
• Shit, I don't know. Sleep good? Stupid lists.
  

Oh, and while I've remembered, last night I had another one of those dreams.

Featuring Elijah "Frodo luvs Sam 4EVA" Wood.



WHAT THE HELL.