Sleepless, Helpless

I haven't slept for the last thirty-something hours or so. Not really. I spent yesterday night writing a new story, the idea for which popped into my head sometime last week, and the idea of actually going and writing it popped into my head last night, at about half past three. I wrote almost three thousand words and finished it. It's got everything in it, that story – rock'n'roll, murders, a love story, comedy, drama, slapstick and a time machine. The most horrible time machine you'll ever read about.
It's rather silly, actually. But fun.
I finished writing it at about half past six, and then went to sleep but failed. The sun was already shining, and when I almost managed to drift into something resembling a slight lack of consciousness, K kicked in her sleep. I finished re-reading PKD's "Eye in the Sky", instead, and then K did what she claimed to be "waking me up".
I spent a rather fuzzy day at work, and then an evening in a recording session, and now I'm here, hungry as hell and waiting for K, who, as I just found out, went to a friend's place in order to fix the niagara there. I never suspected K of such knowledge, and I fear that she herself never did either. Poor friend.
I know that there are, in a cooking pot within the fridge, some round-things-made-of-meat – the name currently eludes me – but I failed to comprehend K's telephonic explanation as to what should be done with them, exactly. I understand that a certain heating process is required, but how it should actually be performed is currently beyond my grasp.
She promised that she'll arrive soon. I hope so. My mind. I can feel it going. Don't do this, Dave. I can feel it. I'm afraid, Dave. I'm afraid… Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer due, I'm half crazy…

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