Despite turning in quite early last night and sleeping till late, I still feel shackout. In an almost biblical fashion, it is almost as though the Seventh day is the day I really need a rest. That’s probably the longest I can tank on a low sleep drive. Or maybe it was that three bottles of beer I had almost a week ago — one cannot help but to wonder whether that did more harm or more good in sustaining me: I was awake through the night and still fresh the next morning. Maybe the negative after-effects all come very slowly and cumulatively. I would have expected a long night of rest to let me wake up fresh and jump out of the house — all I got was a bunch of dreams that deceptively mocked my reality.
There are actually still many things waiting for me to be done, both for myself and for others. But for today, I just need to take a good break and look after myself before I fall sick. Not to worry, I am nowhere close to suffering mental burnout yet. The mind is willing, but the flesh is weak — the flesh just happens to be a neurological organ that physically affects the mind, and the petrol for the mind to function. I’ll get back to doing some overdue casual reading and not-so-casual writing soon. Soon after, I have another week to last, probably another after that, and maybe another after that again.
I would go for a swim now, but its never a good idea to go during peak hour on weekends. Its full of everyone, and noisy little children especially. These children add extra to congestion, because they bring along a parent, and usually both parents. Its the same reason movie producers bother making childrens movies.
I just need to climb back into my comfortable bed and nua there. What’s the point of having a comfortable bed if you’re never conscious enough to enjoy it?