By yesterday I reached my threshold for caca del toro (bullshit) at the lab, stopped at Taco Bell for dinner, and then knocked out while watching CSI on Spike. I finished the Nacho Supreme, Beef and Potato Burrito, and a Cheesy Gordita Crunch, then got cold enough to curl up in the blanket lying on the couch. Perhaps out of a fat induced coma, the next few hours were spent coming in and out of consciousness until heading up to my room to call it a night. Taco Bell probably played a part in my drowsiness, but all the stress from the lab and pressure to finish graduate school essays probably deserve the real credit for tapping out so early.
The same thing happened to another co-worker last night. She was out like a light and refused to wake up even after her fiancee begged her to take a shower before officially going to bed. Her answer to his pleas was to continue sleeping fully dressed. I can definitely relate. It could be that we spent the entire day trying to coordinate 18 plates for nine PCR machines between the two of us, make enough gels for our plates, and then proceed to check those 18 plates on those gels. Feel free to throw in a rude PCR machine nazi that feels the need to remind anyone even looking at a machine that she is signed up for it until after 2 pm, along with finding an overdraft fee hanging out in my checking account, and you get a very, very crabby Jessica.
