The cold dark days of winter. Literally.

I've been going to bed at 8 in the morning for the past two weeks. Waking up at 4 in the afternoon, just in time to see the sunset.

There is nothing to do during the daytime, my brain says, and so I shall deprive myself of daylight. I get about 2 hours of it everyday, and it's strange to wake up when it's almost dark.

This is not the first time it has happened in my life, nor will it be the last.

Every bone in my body tells me that I do not need daylight. I'd just be as happy living the life of a vampire, roaming the streets at night, living in a coffin. In effect, I equate my bed as such, for the fact that seemingly, it's also an expensive piece of woodwork which happens to be rather cold. Yes, I would be a vampire, if not for the part about substaining on blood.

Blood really does taste awful, I know enough of it through my incessant nosebleeding during my childhood.

Starting today, however, it's back to regular routine. The call is for good weather, finally, for the next three days. Enough of this sitting on my arse business.

In fact, it is 7 in the morning, and I already slept for five hours, one of which I spent at the local bar.

Tea please.