And by "revolting," I mean it stinks, and by "it stinks," I mean that it is staging a revolution against me. Even after just one whole day on the diet, my body has decided to hit me where it hurts the most: my tiny glass figurines collection.
And by "tiny glass figurines collection," I mean my enjoyment of my sleep.
For example, when I awoke this morning at the predetermined time necessary to get to work between the times of "AC is a model employee" and "AC should at least be fired from this position, if not actually thrown into a kiln and fired into some sort of pottery/statue as a warning to others who would even dare to think about getting to work late," I found myself tied to my bed with tiny little ropes apparently tied by the little people who were going on and on about how they had finally outwitted the giant, Gulliver.
And by, "I found myself tied to my bed with tiny little ropes apparently tied by the little people who were going on and on about how they had finally outwitted the giant, Gulliver," I mean, of course, that my body felt like it was taking conscious, deliberate action to destroy me. It wasn't that I ached; it was that, even after sleeping a good number of hours, my body felt more exhausted than it did when I had gone to sleep and, either in addition to or because of this, I felt the onset of sickness.
Now, I don't know about you, but I am a busy AC. I don't have time to deal with illness. So I did what any reasonable person would do: I took the morning off and slept some more. However, even the extra sleeping didn't help me out as much as I had hoped because I still feel like I'm dragging worse than a cave man who didn't quite manage to knock out his future wife.
As the only change in my life has been the diet, I have no choice but to blame it for this sleep deprivation.
Curse you diet! Curse you and your kind! So on, so forth, etc!
3 hours ago