This morning I went to sleep at 6:30 am. This is probably the worst it has become, but consistently for the last month or so I have lain down in bed with a pale blue sky. It doesn't matter, really, since it's summer, but it's still screwed up. The worst part is, live in a house that is not kind to people with alternate sleep patterns.
My grandfather wakes up at 6:00 to go on his morning walk. I heard him go down the stairs right after I took my shower. It was a bit surreal realizing I had gone to bed after he had woken up.
Then today at the obscene hour of 11 am, someone rang the doorbell (washing machine mechanic-ours [and, thanks to its malfunction, my mom] has been on the fritz since we got back from Canada two days ago). Normally this pisses me off, because if I wake up within an hour of the time I'm actually supposed to rise, I can't get back to sleep. But I thought of this blog post and was back dreaming in five minutes.
I just woke up, it's 12:18, and I'm about to leave for lunch with my dad's friends (a Friday tradition). Then it's off to soccer. I guess it's alright that I didn't get much sleep. I've found that tiredness helps me play through the pain.
Man, that sounded emo.
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