Jesus Christ, I need a haircut
It is exactly 7.00 a.m. and I just put on underwear for the first time in almost 24 hours. Yesterday I woke up exceedingly hungover, showered, shaved, put my pajamas back on and didn't go to work. I had to make significant edits to my column with a pounding headache, and when my hangover lingered until nightfall, I finally gave in and went to bed around 9.00. Got up today at 5.30 and ate breakfast before work for the first time in probably close to a year. Of course, after all that sleep, combined with the fact that my body doesn't know what to do with itself this early, topped off with greasy fried eggs, I feel drowsy.
This morning I realized that my hair is now officially too long for my Pomade styling goop to do any good. I'm quickly approaching frat-boy pompadour status, as my sideburns continue to increase in degree of curl. Maybe when my check from the Daily Texan clears I'll splurge and go to the super-fancy (for me) salon again.
The thing I hate most about waking up this early is the eventual disappointment of it all. When I crawled out of bed, actually semi-alert for once, and realized how early it was, I felt like I could accomplish anything with the day. So I cooked some, I cleaned some, I showered, and then, slowly now, yaawwwn, damnit, my ambition is gone. In its place is a foggy feeling behind my eyeballs and a sour taste in my mouth. I'd like to go back to sleep, but I know there's no point. I missed going out for my friend's birthday last night so that I could feel like I pulled an all-nighter.
The best laid plans of mice and Matty . . .
UPDATE: I lied. I went back to sleep for two hours. At work by 10.00—now that's more like it.
It is exactly 7.00 a.m. and I just put on underwear for the first time in almost 24 hours. Yesterday I woke up exceedingly hungover, showered, shaved, put my pajamas back on and didn't go to work. I had to make significant edits to my column with a pounding headache, and when my hangover lingered until nightfall, I finally gave in and went to bed around 9.00. Got up today at 5.30 and ate breakfast before work for the first time in probably close to a year. Of course, after all that sleep, combined with the fact that my body doesn't know what to do with itself this early, topped off with greasy fried eggs, I feel drowsy.
This morning I realized that my hair is now officially too long for my Pomade styling goop to do any good. I'm quickly approaching frat-boy pompadour status, as my sideburns continue to increase in degree of curl. Maybe when my check from the Daily Texan clears I'll splurge and go to the super-fancy (for me) salon again.
The thing I hate most about waking up this early is the eventual disappointment of it all. When I crawled out of bed, actually semi-alert for once, and realized how early it was, I felt like I could accomplish anything with the day. So I cooked some, I cleaned some, I showered, and then, slowly now, yaawwwn, damnit, my ambition is gone. In its place is a foggy feeling behind my eyeballs and a sour taste in my mouth. I'd like to go back to sleep, but I know there's no point. I missed going out for my friend's birthday last night so that I could feel like I pulled an all-nighter.
The best laid plans of mice and Matty . . .
UPDATE: I lied. I went back to sleep for two hours. At work by 10.00—now that's more like it.
posted by Matt at 5:23 AM
|
<< Home