I quit my job yesterday.
No need for April Fool's jokes today, as the joke's on me.
My life is a joke.
I remember -- through the alcoholic haze which coats my memory of last evening (a few good friends too me out so I could drown my sorrows, which I heartily did before sticking my tongue down a bartender's throat and being promptly brought home by said friends) that people kept saying this could be the best thing I ever did for myself.
Though, in the light of today, coupled with a hangover, it suddenly seems plainly like a dumb, impulsive move.
Oh my god. I have no job.
On a lighter note, I won when I played the lottery. $175.
Oh, who am I freaking kidding? That was a lame attempt at an April Fool's joke. But I did buy two tickets last night and one today (when I went out for Fresca, my hangover drink-of-choice).
Lucky number thirteen.