5:50: I set my alarm for 5:30. It’s been going off, that awful Apple crescendo-ring sound that maybe makes you gag whenever you hear it on TV, for 20 minutes and I finally wake up. I don’t normally wake up at 5:30.
I wander out to my street corner because my window has bars over it and faces a parking lot. The sky looks nice, or weird, or something. I don’t really know. I start to doze off on a street corner in Brooklyn, so I go back inside.
6:20: My brain’s currently functioning at about the capacity of a tranquilized pig's, so I decide to work out. But I want something easily doable and doable from my bedroom because I’m not real sure I’m ready to go back outside again.
I do 40 pushups, sit-ups, and pull-ups. Then I do, um, some handstands. I’m not real sure what the conversion rate of handstands to other exercises is. I’m scared to actually go fully vertical because my room isn’t a gym, and it has shelves and things in it.
I do a couple half-assed handstands.
Then I do one where I flip over and land on my bed, but I almost knock the mattress off the box spring. So, I prop my feet up on a wall, ripping out my laptop’s power cord in the process, and do a wall-assisted hand stand. I hold it until my vision goes blurry, which takes five seconds. I do this two more times and don’t die.
6:45: I eat food for breakfast.
My food is a wheat bagel with vegetable cream cheese. Also: my life is exciting.
7:05: I need some caffeine, and I have some green tea in the kitchen, so I check to see if that will keep me awake:
I boil water, put in a tea bag, and then drink the green tea.
7:15: I accidentally fall asleep on top of my covers.
9:15: I wake up again. I had some weird dream-cum-reality-cum-dream sequence. I remember my face being numb, and then I remember trying to type “your face is numb, remember to write about this” in my phone but being unable to properly employ the English language. I don’t know if any of this actually happened. My head hurts.
9:30: I take a 10-minute shower.
A 10-minute shower and a three-minute teeth brushing are both unnecessarily long things for a person to do.
10:20: It’s raining, but I need to walk to a coffee shop to do some work (I'm a freelancer). So I ask a pretty simple question:
I walk five blocks without an umbrella because, as “snake” points out, rather than risking “premature emasculation … I’d rather be soaked!!!!”
10:30: I haven’t had coffee in over a year, but tea failed and I’m in a coffee shop, so it seems like as good a time as ever to give it another go. I asked for some beginner advice.
I order a cappuccino and drink it. Normally, coffee makes me jittery and anxious. This time I barely feel the effects, which I unscientifically assume has something to do with me doing handstands in my bedroom at 6 AM.
1:30: I want a cheap and healthy lunch because I am unable to think beyond that.
A bacon sandwich is a roll with bacon on it. Nothing else. I order the sandwich from a deli and have to tell the guy behind the counter, more than once, that “No, I don’t want eggs or anything else with that.” It costs two bucks, so it is cheap. It is not healthy. It is also the most depressing lunch a human being can eat. [Ed note: this is racist against British people, I think.]
3:30: The bacon sandwich has failed to fuel my mind back to “semi-partial human capacity,” so I stop trying to do anything remotely productive. I want to watch the most recent episode of Mad Men, so I check in for approval.
4:45: Lane commits suicide, and I don’t blink. I have now lost the ability to feel any human emotion.
6:30: I now want a cheap and healthy dinner.
I head to the grocery store and pick up the teriyaki chicken variation of the Voila! skillet meal because it’s the least cheese-drenched offering. Despite a number of incorrect directions on the package—“covered” when “uncovered” is meant; calling for an absurdly small amount of water—I cook the meal successfully. It tastes OK. This is definitely the highlight of my day. The meal came with a congealed ball of teriyaki sauce the size of my fist.
9:30: It’s time to prepare for bed.
I empty my bladder. It feels like my brain is made of olive loaf. My heart is also pumping blood that is apparently now the consistency of toothpaste.
10:00: I’m happy, not because anything today made me happy, but because this day will never happen ever again. Then, I go to sleep—but not before figuring out the proper bedtime apparel.
I sleep completely naked.