Making this a habit

This is the second time this week (or was it this week? I’m confusing my days as they blur into sleepless blobs highlighted by hyperventilating happiness and the dull doldrums). I’m writing this after a SMALL coffee and a night at nextdoor watching movies. Er, I mean films. So I thought I’d be ok because it was a small coffee, and I really needed it. I woke up too late today, and my lovely living mates had already drunk all of it.

And right now I’m being followed by a insect. A large one. As I was about to lie down to not sleep in my bed, it crawled out of my pillow. I whacked it repeatedly with Hamlet, the brave, brave soul. (If you had trouble killing Uncle Claudios, babe, this insect is ten times worse.) When I thought I had at least subdued it enough to keep it in that corner of the room, I retreated to my desk again and to this sympathetic key board. But just now as I looked to my left, it was ON MY PRINTER.

“Stop following me you deranged insect!” I shouted to it as it hobbled feebly around the white printer paper.

“I am injured,” it seemed to say.

“Damn right you are!”

“Do you not take pity on me?”

“I will end you.”

Grabbing my to do list and attempting to end it, I hit the insect. Or I seemed to. Apparently it’s one of those super insects that move in the super speed dimension. Like those blonde dreaded guys in the Matrix Reloaded. As I thought this, it ran into the deep depths of my HP. EF THAT!

I can’t sleep now. No, that’s it. I’m done. I’m never sleeping again. Just call me Edward.

[Yay. I made my vampire reference for the day. Much like Kariume's crack jokes.]

My friend just IMed me, and I thought that our discourse (that’s my favorite word this week) is applicable to this post:

him: you there?

me: yes

him: 2am. go to bed crazy woman

me: yeah. no.

him: k

me: a insect is in my room. it’s following me.

him: eat it! kill it

me: I tried

him: which?

me: the latter. it’s a super insect

him: O RLY?

me: brb, killing

him: use kryptonite

Seriously, I can see the affects of humanity’s obsession with bug spray and immunizations right here. Genetic mutation has caused these organisms to employ Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest. The fittest have survived the bug spray overdose of 2007 in the Lindsea Hood and have now mutated to become SUPER INSECTS. Dun dun dun. This is ridiculous. I’m calling the EPA. I’m calling the FDA.

And the worse part is, in my late night hysteria, I think that everything that touches my epidermis is an inspect. I am flinching and jumping like a heroine user going cold turkey (which, incidentally, I saw recently in Barnes and Noble). This is not ono kine grindz.

So this post was going to be about semi-intelligent musings. But no, the genetically mutated freak of nature that is hiding in my printer has ruined it.

[Edit: Ok, so then it ran out of my printer and somehow got under my bed. Yes, I thought, at least it's moved away from the immidiate vicinity. BUT NO. The genetic mutation obviously made it a million time stupider and gave it a death wish. It ran out from under the bed and onto my FOOT.

"What the ef what the ef what the ef??? What are you doing?!"

No response.

I ended up murdering it for good and then rolling over it with my chair a couple of times. I'm not certain this means it's safe to go to sleep. I'm thinking it might have a mate somewhere. If it does, IT IS GOING DOWN LIKE ITS WIFEY. That is all.]