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The Post That Wasn’t

I started this entry last night (Thursday), as indicated by the date above. Actually, I technically started it around two-thirty in the morning on Friday — but I hadn’t finished with my Thursday yet, so I took a little leeway. The time on the clock has never affected my plans much.

Except.

As I sat down to write after a long, full day of my usual doofuness, I grew a bit tired. Woozy. Fuzzy-headed, and I’m not talking about my stupid haircut. I’d squeezed every last drop out of that poor Thursday and licked the bowl clean — and it had taken its toll.

At three am, I was flagging badly. Here’s what I’d written so far:

(No, there’s nothing there. I’m not screwing with you, writing in teensy font or all-white text to be a smartass.

Or am I?

Hah! Made you look!)

“It was a quarter till four, and I still had nothing. My face falling on the keyboard had typed out a few letters, but nothing I could really use.”

Next thing I know, I woke up stiff and drooling — not in the good way, mind you — at my desk. It was a quarter till four, and I still had nothing. My face falling on the keyboard had typed out a few letters, but nothing I could really use. It might have been something mildly amusing in Swedish or Cantonese, for all I know, but the punctuation was all wrong. Also, ‘lapdancer’ was grossly misspelled. Like, with a ‘q’. And a ‘@’. Tsk.

So I went to bed.

It’s Friday morning proper now, and though mornings are never kind to me, I’ve at least corralled enough wits together to explain myself. And to work out what I’m going to write about today, well in advance. Waiting until the wee hours doesn’t work out so well, as I’ve found. Also, I’ve found that my keyboard tastes like finger sweat and stale corn chips.

So I guess I learned two lessons in writing this post. And that’s two more than usual. Whaddaya know?