October 17th, 2003:

morning notes: in progress

Yes, I’m up. No, I’m not happy about that.

Somehow I figured I’d spring out of bed at 4am with my youthful face smiling, my hair godlike, and my breath fresh as daisies. There’d be a glimmer in my eye and a skip in my step as I stoop down to pick up the morning paper saying, "Good morning to you Mrs. Robinson. Isn’t it a wonderful morning?". I’d be a bubbling fountain of endless energy ready to spend it on whatever called to me.


Um, no.