Hi, I'm Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction.
Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2).
Adapted from a collection of nightly...
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August 9
I may have mentioned it before, but I'm not the best with mornings. Given the time I went to bed last night, coupled with the typical anxiety I experience during any morning alarm, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise when I say that I got absolutely zero sleep last night.
On top of waking up every hour throughout the night in a complete panic thinking I was going to oversleep, I also convinced myself that my alarm had gone off and that I needed to get out of bed at 5 a.m. Why I thought this, I do not know, as I had set three alarms for 6 a.m.
Nonetheless, I jumped out of bed like a crazy person, made my lunch, and cleaned my apartment in complete darkness. The sun hadn't even risen yet. This killed me, as you know I have a personal rule against being vertical before sunrise. The rule used to be 10 a.m., but then I became poor and needed to find employment, so I had to make some adjustments.
Anyway, it wasn't until I was in the shower and my three alarms started going off that I realized I was an hour ahead of schedule. When I wake up that early, I tend to feel physically ill. This morning was no exception. My stomach was all out of whack. I also felt bitchier than usual. Once I had done a few more chores to occupy my extra hour – I was afraid to nap in case I didn't wake up again – I went into work and did my thing.
I had about 30 minutes in the office without Big Bird this morning. That half hour was glorious. Of course, once she flew in, all was shot to shit. Big Bird just kept talking, and talking, and the fruit flies in our office were totally out of control. Big Bird leaves her food everywhere. This morning – I am not even kidding – I spotted 16 flies on the wall. And that was just Big Bird's wall! Girl, get it together. We share a space. You can't keep expired food in your drawers! I cringe when I think about how many bugs are swarming around me every shift I work at The Clubhouse. As Mariah Carey would say, "It's like going to work in Hell with Satan every day."
I overheard a conversation Big Bird was having with Connie, The Clubhouse's accountant. It turned out that Big Bird was stung by a wasp this past weekend and had a bad allergic reaction. I overheard this because the conversation was happening about one foot away from my face, but it made me realize that perhaps Big Bird wasn't mad about me missing Saturday's meeting after all. Maybe yesterday's moodiness was just the residual grog from all of the Benadryl. Who knows.
I paid a visit to the front desk this morning and saw Niall. When he asked how my weekend was, I apologized for my absence at the meeting. Niall couldn't have cared less that I missed it. Big Bird is bat shit crazy for the way she handled that situation on Saturday. For the sake of an hour and a half of useless information, she should have just let me fucking be. Jesus. Dan was right, that was psychotic.
The morning continued. I got a decent amount of work done, and then it came to light that Big Bird had to leave around 10:30 a.m. for a doctor's appointment. Bonus! I was leaving at 12 p.m. for my dental appointment, so this was fantastic. Big Bird left, I continued the little work I had left to do, stole breakfast from the staff meal plan and had a feast in my office with the fruit flies, and then Mom was around the corner waiting to pick me up. Gorgeous.
