I’m feeling old. No, it isn’t that I am going to be turning 27 years old in 69 days, it is more an issue of not being able to hang like I used to. I went to a local bar last night with my Drinkin Buddy, my hot new play thing, and one of his friends. I didn’t get drunk or naked (this time), we didn’t even close the bar (we left at last call but who is checking), and yet it was one of those stay-up-til-5am kind of nights.

No really, I stayed up until 5am.

I was lucky enough to be graced with the presence of a gorgeous boy to cuddle for as long as we could keep our eyes open, but once he went home, my ass was down for the count. This is a bad thing, seeing as I have to wake up early to get the kid to school, and I have to be at work right after I get her taken care of. Our routine is pretty tight, since I like to sleep as much as possible before dragging my ass out of bed on any normal day, so not getting to bed until 5 totally fucks it all up.

I slept through my alarms, all three of them. No joke, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing; someone from work calling bright and early to question where I had put something. Yes, that is correct; they couldn’t wait the hour and ten minutes before I came into the office to get this ever so pivotal information. This was actually a good thing though, because I got up out of bed and realized I had 20 minutes to get my daughter ready and an additional 10 for myself. This is not enough time, I usually take at least an hour to get us both ready, and the time cut killed me.

So working on little over two hours sleep is like driving while you are dunk and stoned at the same time – not a good idea. I cannot focus, every time I try to read a new email, I have to squint and get closer to the monitor. I have yawned about 800 times already, and I know there are at least that many left in me. During the slow parts of the day thus far, I have almost nodded out twice and I had to shake my head to wake myself back up.

And I swear to Christ, about half of the office has come over to my desk to ask if I am ok, because apparently I look like the living dead when I don’t wear makeup. A few of the people have actually been nice about it, and just laughed along when I told them I was just sleep deprived from having a good time. The rest give me that “I know what you did last night you alcoholic” look, and then walked away. But at least they walked away and left me alone.

I am too old for this, but it is so fun. Having one of those nights that you don’t ever want to end doesn’t happen often, and when it does you swear you will never do it again. I think that I probably will though, just as soon as I forget about how terrible I feel today.

Sleepy, so fucking sleepy,

K