Sleepy headed

Today I crawled out of bed at 6:15, insistent that it was an hour earlier and that I could go back to sleep, and set out running. I was surprised at my pace: substantially quicker than I was intending. But at around 6 kilometres, my shoulder began to play up and, devoid of energy, I stopped running and had to walk back to the flat.

I thought I'd sort out my sore shoulder by rubbing Tiger Balm into it. All that happened is I had a horrible burning sensation and a stench of camphor so strong I went cross-eyed for half an hour. That certainly didn't feel like teen spirit.

I walked to work, feeling woozy and not quite sure what day it was. Instead of waking up, I was becoming progressively dumber. It's a wonder I didn't walk headfirst into the office's front door, or get trapped in the lift. Instead, I had a conversation about life insurance that I was entirely unequipped to deal with, having left my brain somewhere in Chinatown, and then had to rush home to let in the air conditioner repair man.

On the way back the warmth of the sun on my shoulders, or the sweat I was producing, reactivated the Tiger Balm and I began to burn once more. I'd invented a curious form of torture by embrocation.

The only thing this didn't do was wake me up, so the remainder of the day was like a horrible dream, the kind of dream where a man services your air conditioner and then you go back to the office to try and operate a computer while simultaneously hunting for your cerebellum. In the dark.

I fled at six this evening, into a warm, sepia tinged sunset, and somehow managed to get home, dumbstruck. At least there weren't any sharp objects or wild animals on the way home. I'm going to bed now, in the hope that tomorrow I demonstrate some improvement.