2002-10-23 - 5:12 p.m.

Snoozin', losin', boozin'. Not necessarily in that order. Actually, not really much boozin' going on. I can get pretty drunk really easily now. Ah sweet moderation.

Snoozin' has been the order of the day since I discovered that live-affirming long button on the little red-LCD alarm I've been waking up to since like second grade. (Changing alarm clocks is a deadly proposition. I don't know what I'm going to do if this thing ever fails. Though after 17 years together, I think this relationship's written in the stars.) I didn't start snoozin' until college. At first I was very undisciplined about it. I doubt I even knew that the clock returned for another wake-up call, so faithfully and without complaint, every nine minutes. Oh, sweet nine minutes! The perfect unit. Just enough ticks to get back to bed, get comfy, and sleep long enough to make my internal time measurement system fuzzy. Sweet self-trickery.

Losin' I just mentioned because it's the natural partner for snoozin', but the only thing I've lost (besides my dignity) is the chance to go running or do yoga. And who needs that? Not me, man. Well, maybe I should give that stuff another chance.

Again, nothing happening. Where do the hours go at work? How about at home? Who knows. Who's better, who's next.