<p>Sysco talks in his sleep some, which is okay, though it’s kind of odd, because he actually forms coherent (mostly) thoughts, though they tend to be really angry thoughts. He had already yelled at me a few times tonight about bottles or something, and he was completely smashed when he got home, so I should’ve expected this, but I’m so on-edge from caffeine that I pretty much would’ve flipped out about anything.</p>
<p>Anyway, stuff that was sitting on top of my monitor decided it really wanted to be on top of my CD spindle, and that it wanted to be rude about it, so <em>CRASH</em> it went, knocking a Mtn. Dew bottle onto the floor. As if this wasn’t enough to completely destroy me, Sysco jumped up from bed, grabbed the Mtn. Dew bottle and clung to it possessively, murmuring angry words to himself and visually counting the things on my desk, or the seconds I had left to live. He then reached for my nice glass from which I DRINK THINGS, and grabbed that possessively as well. Holding these two cylinders close against his chest, he then proceeded to wake up.</p>
<p>After throwing the bottle on the floor and setting my glass down on top of his CD player, he mumbled at me and went back to sleep. It wasn’t until after I freaked out, grabbed my laptop and all of the files I needed and got about halfway to the lobby that I started to laugh at the utter absurdity of the situation. He may yell at me tomorrow about it, but I’m just going to laugh back at him, because, damn, that was just funny. And you’ve gotta laugh at what you’re afraid of, because fear is more absurd than anything else. :o</p>
