Busted?

I think I have a fairly good reputation at work. Which is lucky, because my boss' right hand man just came in to find me seated at my computer, head upright, facing forward, hand on mouse. Nothing wrong with that picture, you might think. Crucially, however, my eyes were shut.

Of course, he wasn't to know how long they'd been shut for. The truthful answer is, I believe, 'somewhere around a minute' but for all he could tell, I might have been kipping for hours. Not a good look. In my favour is the fact that this gentleman is not the most logical of people, often finding it hard to hear what someone else is saying, such is the volume of thoughts whirring around his head. So maybe he didn't notice. But I think he did. Oops.

Note to self: do not, when arriving home at around midnight after a gigantic meal with parents to celebrate mother's birthday, suggest to Paul that we should just quickly watch The Apprentice. Even though I fell asleep halfway through, I am still beyond shattered today. Motivation is low and self-esteem is even lower as my good intentions of gym-going were battered by my hangover and thus far today I have been driven to consume a consoling peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, a Penguin at 11ish, a large portion of ravioli and parmesan for lunch and a Cadbury's Caramel for tea. Well, I call it tea but it was really about 2pm. Still time for an additional late afternoon carbohydrate hit. I don't think it's booze that makes you fat: it's hangover eating that does it. Still, today I have an excuse - without regular refuelling, who knows when I'll next nod off while at my desk? We wouldn't want me to lose my job because of a low blood sugar incident, would we? Blimey, with a little more effort I'll be able to justify continued consumption of sweet foods as protection against involuntary mortgage defaults, protesting that if I don't have yet another Twix, my home might be repossessed. It's tenuous but I'm sticking with it...