Contrary to popular belief, it is not at all enjoyable to wake up to a 22lb cat using your girl junk as a landing pad after his soaring flight through time and space. It’s a damn good thing I’m not a guy – had there been balls instead of just tender pubic bone, I probably wouldn’t be walking right now.

I am unusually tired. You can tell by my jaunty hat – to the untrained eye it appears as though I am making a bold fashion statement, but to those in the know, the sequined beanie hides a multitude of unwashed sins. I can (and did) spackle the foundation on in layers, but nothing short of a hockey mask would hide the enormous bags beneath my eyes. Caffeine is usually a treat, but today, it’s a fucking crutch.

The other day I formatted a couple of old USB drives I had lying around to give to others. One of them, I discovered, had been used extensively by Ed – I found multiple folders filled with pornographies. Busted! Unfortunately, in my hurry to lord my discovery over Ed and laugh at his preference for Suicide Girls with small breasts (sending me into a spiral of self-loathing and fear that he hates me because I don’t look like they do, but that’s an issue for another update), I copied the files to my computer. My work computer. Now, if anyone should check, they will find approximately 300 pictures of naked women on my hard drive in a folder named “Kimli”. Clearly, I am very smart and good at crime.

Man, am I tired.