Pkchukiss - Reality Wine

I could have swore that the sun was in my bedroom yesterday evening. No, I wasn’t baked by the absolute heat — though I would have been well-cooked had there really be infra-red rays hanging around — for some weird reason, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed longer than 10 minutes at a time. It was as if the sun was shining right in my eyes (when the shy, innocent little globe was busy cooking whatever was on the other side of Earth from Australia).

In fact, it got to a maddening extent that I had half a mind to go for a long jog just to tire myself out. My only problem? I was thinking on all the cotton candy that accumulated in my head in the day.

So, mindful of the mindless knack for being unable to fall asleep despite being tired, I decided to just stare at the ceiling. You know, the type where you just lie on your bed and gaze at the ceiling, and pretend there are stars flashing? I probably really saw stars, but that didn’t tuck me into bed. When the clock ticked into 0400, I got pretty desperate. You would be when you have to work the next day, but still have not managed to get a single wink of sleep. I was thinking of risking it, and go to work once it happened, but with all the clouds floating around, I didn’t dare take the risk.

It couldn’t be helped. I had to take the next day off, so I sent a message to one of the Bosses (I have 3 of them).

Amazingly, she diagnosed me as having problems adjusting from sleeping in the day to sleeping in the night. This is surprising, because I could pig out from 11pm every day prior to this. But I was getting edgy when I saw the sun rise. After a few more messages, and a frantic call for help to all my friends, I managed to doze off at around 9am; strangely my usual sleep time after my night shift.

The accumulated stress kept me out cold until 3pm, but when I woke up, it felt like morning.

“This is bad,” I told myself. “At this rate, I’ll miss Friday too!”

After stuffing myself with water, and a very late lunch (which I couldn’t finish), I went for a jog around the neighbourhood. It was amazing what the rain did to the park connector. Sediments from the grass were scattered haphazardly around the park, while there were many nasty green-brownish puddles along the entire route.

It had to come after I had just washed and dried my running shoes.

Putting on my best clichéd male-nonchalance, I tried my best to avoid the puddles without appearing to purposefully skip across them. You see, there were my neighbours around bulldozing through entire puddles without a care for the world: and they had dirty sneakers!

In the end, an unidentified smear of mud still managed to cake itself to my shoes; like the over-used phrase: a clean linen always attract dirt, such a magnificent job of whitening the brown shoes surely would make any dirt worth its smear jealous.

They were pretty mean about it: the shoes did not look as bad as before it went under the brush, but it sure did look as if the owner was a filthy, typical male specimen (which I am, of course). But I sure hate how they squared the shoes off so fast.

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