If I were a car, my fuel would be on low, and the little gas light would be blinking and popping up at the worst times, like when you are on a stretch of highway and really hope you make it to your destination. Also, if I were a car, I would want to be a yellow VW bug. But, I guess that's besides the point.
I am so flipping tired. Like, forever.
This weekend has been kicking my butt, or if you will, draining my gas. I get up in the morning a miserable little son of a gun and scoot my butt into some yoga pants and my Nikes and throw on my black polo and sweatshirt, put a little dab of makeup on (actually, fifteen minutes worth) and begin to curse the day I ever got my job. I stop at Dunkin and get my first round of caffeine and I am set from about 7:45 AM to just about 10:30 AM.
I swear I have a caffeine problem.
This one time, back in the day, I didn't drink anything with caffeine for two weeks for a fast, and then my body was literally so sick that my parents forced me to drink a Diet Coke, and as soon as the caffeine hit me, I was even more sick. It took me about three days to get back to normal. True story, bro.
But, anyway. I am pretty sure that I drink close to three-four cups of coffee a day. I despise hot coffee, so I always drink iced. I never get a small. I always get a medium. I drink a lot of coffee, point blank. Mix those three coffees inbetween cans on cans on cans of Diet Coke. I have to be caffeined up at all times in order for me to do anything.
So, this morning, when I woke up and my bones are achey, my muscles are crying, my head is pounding and my body absolutely refuses to get out of bed, the only thing that keeps me going is thinking about that glorious 7 AM coffee.
Oh boy, I can taste it now.
But, you are certainly mistaken if you think I don't crash.
Well, I mean, Granted that I already am living the grandma lifestyle: Home before 9:30 PM and in bed going to sleep by 10 PM. When I leave from hanging out with friends and they have plans I tend to send them text messages like these: