rejectomorph | Reset Forty-Seven, Day Eighteen

Friday brought its share of sleeping and waking up, eating and drinking, reading and internetting, but I can't remember when those things happened. I know I thought about doing a number of things, but failed to follow through on any of them. I'm pretty sure my first sleep ended around ten in the morning and my second sleep began around three in the afternoon, so I only had about five hours of daylight. I'm growing quite pale this winter. I wonder if I could be mistaken for a vampire? I wonder if Herschel Walker would try to kill me?

One of my leftover dinners was devoured, entire, not halved. Once again I'm overfed, but I want to get it over with. Not long ago I had some cinnamon toast with hot cocoa as a bedtime snack, but I was unfocused and made the cocoa too sweet. My brain likes to go wandering off on its own more than it used to. It's getting to be more like a cat, except it doesn't purr. I wish it would. It might help me get to sleep.