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Truly I Have Seen Hell

People frequently try to define hell.  It's a pretty fascinating subject.  But I feel confident that this will end all debate.  All me to share with you this story.
 
It's morning, early winter, and while there are bright sparkles of morning sunlight peeking through the blinds, the air beyond the blankets is chilled and unwelcoming.  Even though my alarm beeps insistently, weaving itself into some bizarre miniature ambulance in my dreams, there is absolutely no way I can be expected to wake up.  Fortunately for my continued employment, my alarm comes equipped with a snooze button, so after several more minutes of blissful unconsciousness, the alarm bleats again.  The third time this occurs, my consciousness becomes aware of the fact that this device is demanding my attention, and begins to try and rationalise why.  At first, there is confusion.  I am certain it is Saturday, so I can sleep in.  I must have set the alarm by mistake.  With the co-ordination of a hippo on roller skates, I manage to silence the alarm once again, and drift off, content in the knowledge that this sleep-in will be glorious.
 
Subsequent demands of attention from the alarm shatter this peaceful illusion.  As I am unwillingly dragged further into the realm of wakefulness, the horrible, sickening truth dawns - it is not Saturday.  For a moment, I argue against this injustice with myself, pointing out a number of illogical rationalisations as to why it must be the weekend.  They work, briefly, before the alarm beeps again, startling me to lucidity, and I conclude that despite my dearest wishes, it is in fact Friday and I am running late for work. 
 
Despair steals over me.  At that point in time, all my body wishes to do is sleep in, and it feels as though it has been wanting to do so all week.  The mere thought that there is an entire day left before the weekend is soul-crushing, and the notion that I must wait until TOMORROW to acquire those precious extra hours of sleep leaves a cold pit of dread in stomach, as at this point in time I do not feel fit to be alive, much less awake and functioning as a member of the human race.  Nonetheless, it is at least the last day of the week, and after this hurdle it will finally be the weekend.  I can manage one more day, if it is ONLY one more day.  This thought allows me to summon the will to open my eyes.

That is when the alarm beeps and I wake up.  Again.  And promptly feel a million times worse.
 
That was all just a dream.  It's actually Wednesday.

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