I'm not in the mood at all, I just don't want to go to work tomorrow. Fuck, and I stay up late cause I know that when I get into bed, I'll be, in a way, already in tomorrow, already on the way to the office. Because my way to the office begins when I get in bed: if I don't have to work the following morning, oh man, I go to bed in a very different way.
For the last three days I've slept like a pig. I suppose this explains why I'm so not in the mood at all to go to work tomorrow. To morrow, whatever morrow means.
(for those of you readers of only the english chronicles: the previous two posts, in Spanish, have been way more philosophical than this one... though this one is quite philosophical as well, if you think about it)