Thinking Can Be Time Consuming

I've been thinking a lot lately. Maybe it's because I have nothing better to do but I have been thinking indeed.

Last night, I went to bed around 12am and proceeded to think for 1.5 hours until I forced myself to go to sleep.

Then I dreamt (does this count as thinking?) that I was the first female AFL star and it was awesome. Obviously, I have been watching too much She's The Man (is it possible to ever watch too much, though?). I dreamt that I was the first female AFL player and at first, it was a little rough with the guys (not in a sexual way, although come to think of it...) who were clearly intimidated by not only my athletic abilities but also my keen feminine sensibilities and how good I always tended to smell (like freesias and raspberries). I caught these awesome marks in which I would jump up on the opposing side player's back (feeling the slick musculature under those teeny footy jersey thingoes or whatever the correct terminology is) and then catch the fuck out of the ball and proceed to tumble to the ground in this cat-like, extremely graceful, attractive, sensuous and sexuous flip (thing).

Everyone just adored me. I may or may not have also had a lover (!) on the team who I got up to mischief with.

I woke up feeling tired (I woke up at 8.30am and for those who know me, during holidays I tend to sleep for a MINIMUM of 12 hours so this seven hours was clearly insufficient) and with a cramp in my calf. For some reason, sometimes when I've just woken up in the morning (barely lucid point) and I flex my calf, my whole leg seizes up in pain. It's kind of terrific and disgusting at the same time. Like when you wake up after sleeping on your arm and your whole harm is lifeless, limp, flacid, pale and senseless. It is, of course, awesome.

J