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I had a great time this weekend socializing with friends (Turbo is in town--obviously much beer was consumed), napping, and partaking in a work-sponsored day at Boondocks Fun Center (Sara and I bruised ourselves in the batting cages, miniature golfed in front of a family with not-very-behaved short people, fake-committed suicide a number of times while arcade racing automobiles and motorcycles, and ate a bunch of crap). Overall, superfun weekend.
What I want to know is why, today, can I hardly keep my eyes open because I am so tired, and also why does it feel like something disasterous is about to happen in my tummy? I'm rested, well hydrated, and should be ready for the week. Instead, I sort of want to turn the broken down boxes under my desk into a pillow and curl up until it is time to go home.
The official line here is I Am Not Coming Down With Something, and even if I am I don't get to go home and sleep it off because a) too much to do, and b) the drywall guy is finally there fixing the flood damage. Wish me luck, pepto, and caffiene.
