Please Leave A Message

or better yet, don’t.

What did I tell you — NO SLEEP TILL BROOKLYN! (photo via Unsplash)

I’m sorry I’m not available to talk right now, but I’m very tired. I know I said this yesterday, and the day before. And the day before that. Actually, I’ve been saying it since I graduated from college and could no longer schedule my “job” (aka classes) according to my drinking schedule.

This being an adult thing really, really sucks.

Maybe I’m anemic (I’m not). Maybe it’s the three jobs (Magic 8 Ball: “Without a doubt”). Maybe it’s the slow but steady deterioration of this pathetic, rotting meat bag I call a body.

In any case, I am too tired to respond to your text, voicemail, email, or phone call. I’m sure you understand. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re one of those perky people with energy who should be placed on an island far, far away from me. How do you do it? Meth? Ritalin? Are you doing it just to annoy me?

So unless you’re calling to tell me that I’ve won a million dollars, or that you’ve won a million dollars and are throwing a massive party with tons of free food and an open bar, please don’t communicate with me.

And hopefully a pinata. (photo by Hello I’m Nik 🇬🇧 on Unsplash)

Even then, I’m probably too tired to attend. A real friend would just drop the food on my doorstep and leave without knocking. I’ll find it. Just put it on top of one of the Amazon boxes I’m too tired to bring inside.

Legal secretary by day, insomniac by night. BA, MA. The Haven, Tenderly, The Junction, @pointsincase, The Funny Times. Twitter: @blade_funner

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