In an attempt to improve my tardiness tally here in the office, I slept at eleven last night, woke up at half past five in the morning, took a freezing cold shower, packed my breakfast of oatmeal and some brown bread, and hurried out of the house. I was here by eight. Good, good. I surprised myself for being cheerful and perky. It was a cool morning after all. But now, I feel like a zombie ready to go back to the land of the living dead and reign in my queendom. I’m not sure I can do this every single day for 300 more days or can I? The will power is there but my body’s too shocked, I guess, that it refuses to cooperate.

First, I had to give up smoking, and then slowly, coffee will have to go. How else can I go on? *insert Lindsay Lohan spiels*

A Sheryn Regis hit is blaring through an officemate’s MP3 player. Avemariapurissima.

And it’s only Tuesday.