I don’t like a particular feeling that tends to consume me every now and then. I feel strange, confused, frustrated, edgy. I call it restlessness, for the purposes of giving it a name, and because I believe that the feeling is akin to being restless. Itching for something, unable to sit still or calm down, just being all over the place, uneasy. It happens from time to time. I don’t understand it, nor do I know what it will take to settle myself down. Crazy.
The weekend was the weekend. Much too fast, much too quick.
My penchant for falling asleep at the most inopportune times was recently acknowledged by a co-worker of mine. To my everlasting horror, of course. There I was, taking my leftover diet sodas and drinks to the breakroom. He waves me over. With a smile on his face (likely because he assumes I will deny it and call it a mistake), he comments that he could have “sworn” that I fell asleep during the meeting from the day before. I too smile (like the cat that swallowed the canary) and mutter that I “closed my eyes for a bit.” Later on, in the breakroom, I commence with talking to myself. I’ve been discovered! Who else saw this? I’m fired! I’m in trouble! So on and so forth. Time to fall in love with Red Bull.