Work tried so hard to eat me this morning, but I didn't let it. I just kept closing my eyes and picturing myself NOT at work for the rest of the week and, wouldn't you know it? That helped.
In other news, I had an email from Nancy when I got up this morning.
SIDENOTE: I would be so much earlier for work if I would stop checking my email while I'm getting ready in the morning. Instead, I check my email and this leads to surfing the Internets in various stages of undress and it's not so much productive. THE END.
Anyway, Nancy sent me a link to some story about a Miami student falling out of his loft and hurting himself really, really badly. She wasn't trying to bum me out or anything, she was reminding me how lucky I am that when I fell out of my loft junior year, I didn't hurt myself. Not really, anyway. I had some bruises and, yeah, there's a chance I might have hit my head because I still don't remember falling. Or, you know, LANDING. The next morning, I had this conversation with my roommate (not Heidi, though, I lived with Liz then):
Me: Man, my arm hurts so bad! I wonder what I did to it.
Liz: You're kidding, right?
Me: No . . . why?
Liz: You fell out of your loft last night, dumbass.
Me: I did? Nuh-uh.
Liz: You did. I heard a giant crash and when I opened my eyes, you were lying on the floor.
Liz: Yeah. And when I asked if you were OK, you mumbled something and then ran to the bathroom.
Me: That's crazy.
Liz: I KNOW.
I have this theory that my bones are extra hard (hee) because my body knows I fall down and run into stuff a lot, and it's trying to protect me. It's not a great theory and has no scientific merit whatsoever, but it's a theory nonetheless.
Good talk, Internets. I need to go eat lunch now. My stomach is angry.