An uncertain mood

When I die the thing I'll regret the most is that I didn't sleep more. This is at least in part down to the fact that chief among my pleasures is waking up and realising I have another 5 hours in bed, but mainly down to the fact that I'll probably die in a car crash because I drifted off to sleep.

This will piss me off. Mostly because I doubt anyone else will bother to appreciate the irony, the headlines won't read “slothful man actually killed by work”, and that's a tragedy. If it's The Sun or The Mirror I fear for how the headline may read, “rest in peace, sleepy man”? If I weren't so tired I'd pluck up the energy to spin in my grave.

I spent a month arsing about and it was glorious. My brain working in a way that only a truly rested mind can work realised what it was to enjoy my day. I fucking hate work. Not my job too much but that I have to go in and do things that I do not find immediately gratifying. Frequently the only gratifying part of these things is that when I'm finished it is the longest time before I'll have to do them again. Conditioned as we are, all through our lives this doesn't seem strange and unnatural until you've had a period to readjust.

This may be how cults get started, they get you to stay for a month and then when you go back and your days aren't filled with questionably legal sex and definitely illegal drug use you start to realise that the world we've built is not a Utopia, it's just kinda functional. Kinda functional, putting food on the table and paying the bills, I appreciate the nobility of it all but I'm so fucking tired all I can think is to stay in bed and hope that the world just joins in and the species comes to a dignified end.