octegon

It a fit of rage over waking up this morning, I slammed my sad excuse of a fist down onto my comforter. That's when I noticed a large puff of dust go flying off my bed. Just to make sure I wasn't still half-dreaming, I did it again, and again and again.

Dust, Dust and Dust.

I'm sure there's plenty of metaphors to connect back to my love life, ( ) but this can't be good for my respiratory system.

I think it has something to do with our shitty heater.

In other news....

I started a 10-Day weekend yesterday. I had to use or lose the rest of my vacation hours before February, so I'm going to use this time to get creative as all fuck. I wrote a couple pages in my graphic novel and once my room is clean, I'll get onto writing a new song. This will be my morning ritual until the venomous shackles of work drag me back to my desk.