The morning

It's the 5 minutes that fail me. This is the nth time I've woken up late, yesterdayat 630am and today at 7am. Five minutes! That's all I ask. And what do I get? A whopping hour-and-a-half. I don't know why I can't just pick my ass up as soon as the alarm clock goes off. I have to be at work at 6am when I start the new position.

We finally bought the painting supplies last night. What a job this whole thing entails. I've already scheduled the replacement of the carpet for the 29th of October, so this is the only weekend we can paint the interior of the house. We haven't started packing, yet, and, like I've said so many times, we're just gonna put all our shit in boxes. It's the big furniture that's a pain in the butt, especially for me because I can't carry for shit. Twenty-three years old with a bad back. I've also been feeling chest pains, which only occur when I'm under much stress. I think I should lay off the coffee and the cigarettes and see if that will prolong my existence. Go fucking figure.

I asked Francis about going to the gym and he suggested that I start going at least twice a week and spend a good hour there instead of the original plan of going everyday for a mere 30 minutes. Point taken. Now, all I have to do is drag my sorry butt over there.

I am especially frustrated with the fact that I haven't been able to finish Friendship with God, which has been on my reading list for the past year. I know I've mentioned this before, but it's really bugging me that I can't sit down and read anymore, or even actually find the time to.

I'm so glad tomorrow is Friday, which reminds me, I have to take my drug test for the new job.

Wish me luck.

I don't do drugs, obviously. I'm just naturally insane.