One thing about having a slacky job like I have, and generally few or no entanglements of any kind at all in life, coach, is that the situation has really nurtured my bad habits. Instead of somehow turning into the responsible grown-up I theoretically was supposed to turn into at some point, here I am pushing 40, and I still like to stay up all night and sleep all day ... about four times a week.
By the time I'm done drinking coffee and checking the important spots on the web, it's the middle of the afternoon. And you know what that means -- yep. It's close enough to happy hour to happy it up ... for the next 12 hours.
It's a pathetic and aimless life, but somebody's gotta live it, dammit. Until it kills me. Which I figure could happen at any second now.
ADDENDUM: Welp, I dragged myself outside into the sunshine for a couple hours and took a walk over to Foster Ave. Beach and down to Montrose Harbor and back, for about five miles' worth of strolling in total, so now I feel totally healthy enough for another Saturday night of dumping toxins into my system like it's some kind of New Jersey. Woo hoo!
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