Why does insomnia always happen at the least convenient times? Any other night this entire past week wouldn't have mattered...but the night before I go back to work and I'm wired. My heart is unexplicably racing...I'm sweating like a racehorse...I don't feel sick, just anxious. I started thinking about the scheduling hell that will become my life soon, and well...here I am. The tables have turned...My wife who is usually up until the sun comes up has just said goodnight and I'm on some weird schedule. It will manifest itself at the worst times tomorrow. I need a new job. Me and a hundred million other americans. I wish I could get paid to offer up smart quippy one line observations about strangers. That would be a good job. Just find a new location every day...watch some people for a while...and talk about how...terrible, goofy, ugly, beautiful, homeless, retarded, or otherwise worse than me they really are. I'd start at an old folks home. Easy target I know...but first day on the job got to make a good impression. Hey you old bag of skin...I may hate my job, but at least in the morning I'll still be alive...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Of course the tide will change. Someday I'll be old. My skin will be falling off my body because the ground is a more enticing place to be than my bones. My teeth will be rotten because no matter how hard I try...they will disintigrate with time. I'll stink, because old people just do...and I'll look at the smartass kid looking at me pointing and laughing and say yeah kid...tomorrow I'll die. But happy. And you can't take that away.