saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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Giving thanks that I still have both arms.
Last night, around 3 am�which would really make it morning, not night, huh? But it was dark, so it was night. Although, if I put a blanket over my head, it�s dark, but not necessarily night. I could pretend that it�s night, sure. For all intents and purposes, in my world, at that time under the blanket, the reality of �nighttime� is at hand. And how unusual would it be to come across me, sitting under a blanket in the middle of the day? I can�t think of very many people who know me who would ask what the hell I was doing under there.
Person Not Well Acquainted With Louise: Why is she under that blanket?
Person All Too Well Acquainted With Louise: I dunno. Enjoying the evening, I suppose.
I love how the word �night� is used to describe a time period when the sun is not visible in its traverse of the sky, and not the actual hours of the human measurement of �day.� And yet, �day� is used to describe both the period of sun visibility and the entire 24-hour rotation of the earth.
Fucking crazy ass shit, man.
No. I am not high.
I am, however, lacking in sufficient amounts of sleep.
Oh, yeah! I was saying something before, wasn�t I?
At 3 am, I discovered an arm under my pillow.
I leaned up, and felt along the length of the arm. It was soft, and seemed to be feminine.
�How odd,� I thought. It seemed like the thing to think, since I was still half asleep, and it was so early in the morning (but dark, so it was night, and I wasn�t just sitting under a blanket�at least, not that I can remember).
I poked at the arm. It did not move. It was warm, so I imagined it wasn�t dead. It suddenly occurred to me that I had not checked to see if it was attached to anything. So I scooted back in bed, and the arm came with me.
Soon, I was sitting up in bed, staring at my dangling, lifeless right arm. Apparently, I had fallen so deeply asleep on top of it that it became angry and spiteful, and decided to do the same thing just to freak my shit out. At 3 am at night in the dark.
After a few seconds, the unpleasant tinglies began, indicating that my arm was regaining consciousness. I laid back down, watching the ability for me to move my fingers slowly come back.
Happy ending. So are the days of my life.
In other news, our build manager has the fucking CRAZIEST eyebrows I�ve ever seen. Seriously. I�m afraid to stand very close to him, because it looks like his eyebrows are reaching out for me.
Also, Rob and George will be here tomorrow, for to partake in unchained, slapstick Thanksgiving thrills that will leave them reeling, speechless, and changed for the better, forevermore. You may remember Rob and George from other Thanksgiving adventures like �The Hummer Game�.
I�m telling you people. Wackiness, it shall ensue.
10:04 a.m. - 2003-11-25
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