It is 3am and I am sitting at my kitchen table in my filthy McDonald's uniform slowly loosing my mind from the incessant buzzing of the blow fly that rudely invited itself into my home. If I look up I can see a sink full of disgusting dishes that are screaming to be washed, a weeks worth of unopened mail and a list of things I am meant to be doing, but am quite obviously ignoring. The list is taunting me. It's telling me I'm lazy and it's telling bad sex jokes about my mum. But worst of all, it's made up a song about how fucked up tomorrow is going to be when I still haven't finished the tasks it wants me to do. Damn you list!

One of the things the list wants me to complete, is a speech for my friend Megan commemorating her 21st birthday. One would think this would be an easy and enjoyable task that I could easily cross off the list in four seconds. But you one would be wrong. Writing about Megan, the girl whom is like a sister to me, is proving to be quite the challenge, mainly due to my brains inability to match appropriate words with the feelings I have for this dear friend of mine. So instead of writing my speech, I am just sitting here, staring at my laptop screen with the occasional flailing of my limbs as that pesky blow fly gets hungrily drawn in my the wonderful oily odor of my uniform.

But sitting here isn't really all that bad. I have noticed things about my house that I would never have noticed if I actually slept like a normal human. Like the fact that my fridge probably has something living in it. As I type and flail and ignore the lists derogatory comments about my oily hair, the fridge stands over by the wall, scratching and clunking as something moves inside it. I am pretty sure this is not normal, and it makes me recall the time there was an awful smell coming from this very kitchen I occupy right now. My mother and I ran about, noses in the air, sniffing madly until we realized the foul smell was coming from the fridge. Upon dismantling the back of the fridge, we found three dead mice, all of which had succumbed to the poison mother had hidden behind the pantry. In their final moments, the mice had sought refuge in our fridge and had kindly laid there to rest eternally in rotty smelly splendor...that is until mother found them and chucked them disrespectfully over the fence into our neighbours yard. So i'ts probably safe to assume, the scratching noises I am hearing now are the last moments of another family of mice. And to think I would have missed this if I'd been asleep. Lucky!

Well, its beginning to get colder and and I still haven't made any progress on...well anything. All I have achieved is to make myself very sleepy and to have given birth to a journal entry of no relevance at all. So I will now end this journal writing moment I am having and attempt once more, to love my friend with words and when that is done, I will make my way through the piles of crap that have taken over my home, crawl into bed beside my sleeping boyfriend and fall into a wonderful coma until 12pm. That is of course if the local birds don't decide to wake up and chirp outside my window. For some reason, those feathery bastards just have no concept of time and wake up at all kinds of stupid hours of the morning...

Hmm...maybe I was a stupid bird in another life?