03.33.. That's what time the clock says. I've gone and done it again. Got wrecked on a school night. Fuck me its going to be a difficult day tomorrow trying to style this one out. Funny thing is a few years ago I would be really beating myself up right now. In the wee small hours in my dark flat panicking about how the fuck I was going to get to sleep and feeling shame at having got myself into this situation. Now apart from not looking forward to the physical feeling of dragging myself out of bed at silly o'clock I'm pretty ambivalent about the prospect of a day at work with very little sleep. 

Maybe this is a sign that I am incredibly irresponsible, I kind of suspect it is. Somehow the whole added value of risk in pulling off a walk of shame into the office fills me with a slight sense of anticipation. A little vicarious thrill to be gleaned. For Gods sake when will I grow up?

One mans tragic struggle with the inevitability of his own shortcomings.