I left my shit in my car Sunday and I knew I had to get them because I needed to fill out some paperwork that was in my bag and send it out Monday. But after picking up pizza for dinner and eating, like, nine slices (nine slices? Boy, that takes me back to a time I could eat that much and lose weight), and after being tuckered out from a meeting/party I had that afternoon, I went to bed and passed out. When I woke up, it was too late to go to the garage and get my things because I would wake everybody else up.

But passing out meant that I couldn't sleep all night. In fact, I stayed up till morning. After my mom left for work, I decided to get coffee at this place where I used to get coffee all the time when I was employed. I liked the girls that work there, and I want to remain familiar to them. Plus, I'd be able to get my bag and work on my papers while enjoying some damn fine coffee.

So I sit down and open my bag ... and I don't see the papers I need to work on. And then I remember: I never put the papers in my bag at all. They're in envelopes I store them in ... which are at home. Instead of just saying to myself I'll do it tomorrow, I could've done them late Sunday or early Monday because they were in the bleepin' room next to my bedroom all this time.

I may not have a job, but after an oversight so dumb, maybe I don't deserve to work.