I really, really wish I knew why my bedsheet and my comforter are wet. I really do.
And before some smartass says it, no, because I didn't sleep in my bed last night. I just woke up on the couch with a Harry Potter blanket draped across my bare ass.
Damn, that is one big-ass sky.
I gotta get the frell outta this house today. Get a shower, then get out in the air. I can go to the bank, get some scratch, then get my sheets washed. Judging by the fact that I can't smell anything on them I'm pretty sure either me or Luke just spilled some water on them, but no harm in being safe.
I need to go work out, too, but I don't think I'll manage that one today. I was planning on doing it, but I was also planning on being up and about and functional before one in the afternoon. Drank way too much, way too fast, and spent better than an hour yarking my guts up. Christ, maybe I am getting too old for this shit.
Fuck it. I've already burned enough daylight.