Never again

Homer Simpson looking scared


Due to a horrific migraine I passed out last night at around 9 p.m.

I did so while facing the wrong way in bed. It confused my cat. He attempted to jump on my head, only to find my feet.

Falling asleep so early meant my internal alarm clock became messed up. Which meant that I woke up quite a bit earlier than when I normally would.

Guess what people!

3:30 a.m.? It exists.

I mean, I know in theory it existed.

I know that it had to exist because it’s the lump of time I sleep through while people in other pockets of the world are doing their own “daylight” thing.

I know that at some point back when I was in University I was semiconscious and awake for 3:30 a.m. at various times while trying to finish of essays on obscure political theory due the next day.

But at some point I got “old.” At some point, even 1 a.m. became ridiculously late, and something I only experience if I have a last minute deadline to meet.

Or when I had a little addictions problem with The Tudors. Don’t judge me. Everyone and their mother is in love with Jonathan Rhys Meyers’ pouty good looks.

So I woke up at 3:30 a.m. I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I fixed up some tea and toast. I learned that no one was online to pester. I craved pancakes. But there were no pancakes to be had.

No. Pancakes.

People, I’ve been to 3:30 a.m., and it was awful.

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