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Dco16

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  1. -Noon, December 24, 2005

    I'm sitting at my laptop, typing, in a jungle of a bedroom that looks like a musician's Penthouse suite after their first farewell tour.

    I'm recovering from a NyQuil-induced coma from last night, as my body wasn't aware that it was time to sleep after being awake for 36 hours. I woke up groggy, at 4 AM, after eight hours of sleep.

    Some animated version of A Christmas Carol is blaring from the television, on Cartoon Network. This, I think to myself, at least isn't anime.

    I've returned from town, which is buzzing with activity. I needed to cash my paycheck and pick up supplies for the weekend. I'll be going up to Massachusetts tommorow for Christmas, and the proper things were required for survival in the wilderness that is the family.

    I woke up. When I saw my mother walking down the stairs into the living room, I thought "Jesus, she must have been wasted last night!" She wasn't, she was going through that ever-feared and sugar-coated "time of the month." If there's anything at Christmas that doesn't need to be sugar-coated, it's that insanity. She answered my thought, saying "No, I didn't srink last night." I was afraid to speak, because if I did, I thought that there might be another level to it, and that if she could hear my thoughts, what could she hear if I spoke?

    I learned later that my brother's girlfriend had slept here last night after she went with my brother to game night, a spectacle participated in between four friends. The game is Dungeons and Dragons.

    My mother hates her, to understate the point, and if she knew that the girl was sleeping here last night, staying today, and sleeping here until tommorow, only to travel with us up to Mass., there would be an atomic explosion like none ever seen.

    I decided that I needed the following, just for today.

    -8 cans of Starbuck's Doubleshot espresso & cream.
    -A bottle of Ginger Ale, for my quesy stomach.
    -Package of 1 dozen pop tarts
    -A lighter, so that I can lightly toast the pop tarts without leaving my bedroom
    -Tim Horton's tea, which I was able to get for free because the former night-shift manager was working, and she's the only manager I feel that I'm on speaking terms with.
    -1 muffin, to restore the carbohydrates missing after the NyQuil coma

    The drinks are now chilling in my window, closed between the room and the outside world, which is about ten degrees above freezing. Except for the tea, which leaked rather badly over my Judas Priest shirt.

    Shit.

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