You know, I always say that I can sleep when I am dead. In the last 60 hours, in between rearranging the apartment with the roomies (for the sake of procrastination of course) at 1 in the morning, amazing convos on the phone with amazing people, funals (and all the papers and studying that that entails) and other, unnameable shenanigans, I have gotten something short of 10 hours of sleep. I should really probably go to sleep, but I am afraid that if I stop moving I will crash and never wake up… plus, I have this burning desire to go climb some rocks!
I’m abnormal to say the least
