*crawls out of bed*

I lie. I've been up for nearly forty minutes. It's too frigging early and I've had too frigging little sleep. I am cranky and my stomach hates me (it always does when I haven't had enough sleep).

Gotta finish breakfast, finish abluting, pack a lunch, and go to work for my twelve hour shift. For my next trick, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat! ("Aww, Bullwinkle, again?").

The cats are confused by my schedule. I can't blame them. I'm confused by my schedule. After this I have Saturday, Sunday and Monday off, then two twelve-hour shifts Monday and Tuesday, and then I don't know anymore. I don't want to work next weekend. I'm burnt.

I also have to find time to go water the plants at the Parental Units' place.

Right now I just want to go back to bed.

Now it's personal

We were rocking out at rehearsal tonight (last rehearsal before tomorrow's gig!), and were in the middle of kicking the ass of "Enter Sandman," when I miscalculated slightly on a cymbal crash and sliced open my finger on the top cymbal of my high hat.

Yes, it's official: Lars has drawn blood.

I suffer for my art!

Finger wounds bleed a lot. This was a cut from yesterday that got re-opened, before any of my flist start getting ideas about just how hard I hit my drums. ;) Still, it hurt on impact and soon I couldn't drum anymore (despite being only about 1/3 into the song) because my drumstick got all slippery with blood, which also spattered all over my sheet music and the drum kit.

I managed to clean the drum kit, but the sheet music has been thoroughly baptized in blood.

I am hardcore, it would seem.

Now I have to go collapse. My bed calls to me with siren song.