This is my life.

Last night I went to bed at 2am, which for me is considered early. And I was super excited because I didn't have to wake up until 11, so we're talking a possible nine hours of sleep here. Do you know how long it's been since I've gotten nine hours of sleep at once? So long that I don't even know. I repeat: I was super excited.

Well, all those dreams were shattered when I awoke at 5:37am, knowing instantly that I was not going to fall back to sleep. This was a terrible moment. Especially because I have no outside force on which to blame my rude awakening.
When most people think in their sleep, it comes out in dreams, but at least they stay asleep. Well, apparently I have so many thoughts running through my head at once that my brain doesn't even know how to funnel them all into dreams at the same time, so it malfunctions and screams at me to wake up because it can't handle itself without my consciousness assisting it. I mean, I already knew that I over-think like nobody's business, but this is getting a little out of hand. And don't even ask me what I was thinking about, because there is simply too much to even attempt to summarize it for you.

So, here I am, at 5:37am, staring at my ceiling, involuntarily running 84239786148934042317 thoughts through my head simultaneously, and suddenly it dawns on me: the absolute only thing in the world that could possibly redeem this horrific situation in the very least is a bowl of cocoa krispies. Yes, cocoa krispies. If I could just get some cocoa krispies in my stomach, the world might start to turn once again.
So, I jumped out of bed and trotted downstairs with high hopes. Now, at that point of sleep deprivation, life doesn't really make any sense, and who knows what a vocal filter even is. So, keep in mind for the rest of this that the entire time I'm muttering my every thought about the subject at hand to myself nonstop.
 I will explain what happened next via narration I gave myself at the time:

(read in creepy whisper)
"Cocoa krispies I need cocoa krispies where are the cocoa krispies there they are nom nom nom gotta eat my cocoa krispies gotta gotta gotta where's a bowl I need a bowl here's the bowl AH don't fall bowl okay good now my cocoa krispies gotta pour the cocoa krispies into the bowl NO not on the counter in the BOWL okay there now I need more cocoa krispies more more more mmmm good now I gotta find milk where's the milk oh milk goes in the fridge gotta open the fridge and get the.....*GASP* NO MILK??!!!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!"

Worst. Moment. Ever.
If my world hadn't been demolished the instant I had opened my eyes at 5freaking37am, it surely had now.

But I was still starving. For some reason the only times I get hungry are in the evenings, and apparently at 5:37am (though it was closer to 6:30 by this time). So I made some burritos. Not actually made, I can't cook, I mean I put some frozen ones in the microwave. However, this turned out to be a lot more of a hassle than it ended up being worth, because in the morning there are several things I am incapable of, such as, A) reading. B) simple mathematics. C) judging an adequate substance quantity.

A) came in when I pulled at every single corner of the burrito package except the one that I now see is clearly marked "PULL HERE" in large, bold letters. I did this on both burritos.
B) came into play when I finally managed to open the burrito packages and put them in the microwave and then decode the directions. When I had remembered how to read at last, I could see that is said, "For 1 burrito, microwave 60-75 seconds. For 2 or more, microwave 40-60 seconds for each burrito." ...I gaped at the words for a solid three minutes. 40-60 seconds? For EACH burrito? What did that even mean? First of all, there were 21 options that I could pick between 40 and 60, and then they wanted me to DOUBLE the one I picked? How did I do that? What do they think, I keep a calculator on me at all times? After contemplating writing a letter of complaint to the Bob Evans Homestyle Burrito people, I decided to just stick my burritos in the microwave for a minute and a half. But even then, the numbers on the microwave just appeared to be a conglomeration of Vietnamese symbols for at least a minute before I managed to decipher the jumbled mess long enough to press the 1 and the 3 and the 0.
Then there's C). That came in after I had finally retrieved my burritos from the microwave. In my current state, the puny burritos looked highly unsatisfactory. That's when I knew that I needed a lot of cheese, salsa, and sour cream. A) came back in for a moment while I was searching for these things in the fridge and managed to pull out both cottage cheese and cream cheese in place of the sour cream. It was all white, it was all sour cream, right? Wrong. I also went into a slight panic when I found some Chick-Fil-A mayonnaise packages in the cheese drawer. I suddenly became filled with rage that my mom or sister or whomever the culprit was could go to Chick-Fil-A without me. But then I remembered that there is no Chick-Fil-A in Michigan, at least not that I know of. So then I just became extremely confused, because I sure don't remember packing any Chick-Fil-A mayonnaise in my stuff from Colorado, but then how did it get there? I'm still notably baffled by this. But anyway, back to what I was saying about C). I guess the burritos either looked a great deal larger momentarily, or I just didn't realize how big the spoon I was using was, or my eyes just don't work or something, because I just kept piling on cheese and sour cream and salsa, and I don't know why. I think at that moment I must have hit a new level of zombie mode, because I just stood there, heaping the stuff almost to a beat, like a worker on a factory line that just presses a button over and over and over all day long with glazed over eyes. By the time I jarred myself back to reality, my burritos were nowhere to be seen. They were drowning in a sea of condiments and all my efforts to salvage my morning had been wasted. There was only one thing to do, and that was to smash my fist down into the mountain of ruin in violent exasperation. However, this was clearly an impulsive move that had involved absolutely no thought whatsoever, because all it accomplished was attaining a kitchen splattered in sour cream and salsa.

Then there really was only one thing to do: blog about it. And then, off to the store to buy some milk.