No Sense of Time.

My cold and the random Thursday closing shift have completely screwed up my sense of time. I was so sick Wednesday night that I slept over 12 hours, waking at 12:30pm for work at 1pm. I worked until 9, Han brought me to the store (my refrigerator consisted of a jar of tahini, old rice, and cheese that just may be on the bio-hazard list), and then I got home, inhaled a sandwich (I wasn't that hungry but needed to take advantage of the glorious bread R brought me from her bakery job), AND THEN SLEPT FOR 14 MORE HOURS.
So, one would imagine that, when I pried myself out of bed at 2pm (and only because Lin was VERY! INSISTENT!), I would be fairly rested. Although sniffly, I felt well enough to have toast and tea and read my new book. "Okay," I thought. "Maybe you're just a wuss. Maybe you should have gone to work today. You're well enough to read, you could kind of do your job."
(Which? Was my delusional self pretending that I don't get chastized for not moving around enough at work. The Big Boss does NOT like to see people sitting around, even if they're about to pass out from an aneurism. "Get on the floor! Sell some books!" To which I want to say, "See these books? They don't just appear. I order them. From this computer. That I'm sitting behind. Not because I'm lazy. BUT BECAUSE WE NEED BOOKS." So yeah, I like to pretend that I can go to work like a normal "office" worker, but it's not like that. Oh no.)
And my thinking was apparently very delusional because I suddenly woke up at 10pm. A well person does not do this--the reading and tea drinking and noting that an hour is left of the work day and feeling guilty for not being there and BAM! it's 10pm.
I slept 18 hours today.
AND IT FELT DAMN GOOD.
(But [small voice] now it's 4am and I can't sleep. Nose is still running, though. More tea.)