I haven’t been sleeping very well. It’s been alright because even if my mind has kept me up until four in the morning I’ve been able to sleep until noon. At least until today, where I had to leave the house by eleven to go into work.
Work was busy and hard, and I did something to fuck up my ankle yesterday, and I didn’t make myself eat anything except for half a cliff bar that had been in my bag for a week or so. Which was not a good choice on any level. Today has not been a day for good choices.
I got home from work, made sad frozen pizza, and turned on the hockey game. The Wild got scored on twice in the first minute and a half. They’re down 6-2 at the end of the second. I could turn the tv off, but then I’d be stuck obsessively refreshing twitter to see how they’re fucking up, and honestly that sounds worse.
The best part of my day was when I had a break from work and I went over to the central library. I sat on the floor between two bookshelves and read a handful of poems by Apollinaire, then got mad at myself cause I have too many fines to check out the book. Which like, this is not a bad moment. I was listening to piano covers of alt rock songs and reading poetry. I love downtown Minneapolis, I love that library, it was good poetry. I should be happy with this.
I dunno. I guess I’m just tired.