Incoherent Ramblings from an Overworked Compromist
I’m standing above the toaster in the kitchen at my office waiting for my bagel. Those little fireflies are spinning around at the edge of my vision, the first sign of sleep-deprived hallucinations. The bagel, the final quarter of my diet after coffee, beer, and things cooked in beer, is jammed in the toaster. It occurs to me that if it was actually possible for someone to die by sticking a fork in a toaster, I would have done it by now.
Sign that I’m getting old #2: I occasionally need a good night’s sleep.