It's late, and I should be going to bed, really. Hold on, it's only 10:30...

I hate waking up early. It totally defeats the purpose of going to bed. That's because waking up should not feel like the antithesis of going to sleep. The stress of the alarm clock ringing in your ear, telling you that if you don't wake up now, you will be fired. The strain of waking up before your body is willing, pulling muscles hitherto unheard of before that fleeting moment. The awkwardness of seeing the light for the first time, reminding you that mornings are the domain of mature and sensible people, not for beer loving hooligans such as yourself.

It's not right. This torturous routine which most commoners refer to as a 'career'. I don't have one, sorry. I'd rather stay in. Please don't bother me.

But it's relentless. I cannot stay away. I've been sucked back into the 'money pit'. The more I earn, the more I seem to hate it...