The stubborn sun had forced its way through your blinds, and the mid-day light disturbed you from your slumber. Your joints lodged their complaints against last night's conditions; with your bed overtaken with junk-food wrappers, curling up on the floor seemed like the easier decision. A slightly faded blanket slides off of you as you rise. Past the shot of pain from an emergent headache, you attempt to gather yourself.
The wrappers need to go in the trash. Soon. Sleeping on the floor is killing you.
Your computer hums in the corner. Nausea gurgles up in you as you recall last night's "session". And you left it on through the night. Again.
The wrappers are on the bed because the can is full of empty bottles. Later.
A momentary stretch eases your stiffness, if only slightly. Accompanied by the obnoxious barking of your neighbor's dog, you resign yourself to the day.
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