Dying

I am a little afraid I may actually be dying.  Since I got back from Indonesia 5 days ago, all I can do is sleep.  I am too tired to make an English muffin.  What makes it worse is that my friend from Hawaii is visiting and I have to cart him around.  In my sleep.  I think that driving while sleeping is inherently dangerous, so I may be upping my dying chances.  I love to quantify these things, so will assume I have a 10% chance of dying from a rare and exotic Indonesian disease, a 20% chance of dying from not eating because everything tastes like liverwurst which is only slightly better than fish sauce, and a 30% chance of dying due to a DWS (driving while sleeping).  So I am screwed and will likely die before my job interview tomorrow and therefore blow the interview.

I am really bad at being unemployed except for the sleeping part.  I was born hyperactive and neurotic and am applying for crazy jobs that don’t even make sense.  I got tagged on Linked In for a payroll job and although I know nothing about payroll other than they are the mystery gnomes that send me checks, I applied anyway. 

I don’t even like sleeping, sleeping is for boring people and I do not qualify for boring any more than I qualify for payroll.  Luckily, Tina tagged me to give a job search workshop to all of our unemployed friends because I am funny and good at giving speeches.  And they posted my job at Landesa, so I am getting mad calls from all of my HR people. 

Tina and Max say I am probably just tired and should sleep but that seems lazy.  I quit caffeine a few months ago to deal with anxiety, but I may have to go on a 5 hour energy bender. My friends are planning my 40th birthday in absentia, so it would probably be best if I died prior to attending that.  I think we are having a rave.  Please let it start at 10 a.m. so I can dance for at least 10 hours.

Seattle, I am back!  But half asleep in frog pajamas.  Yes, Mr. Robbins, that is a shout out to you. Call me!  Let's do lunch.