Spaghetti and Meatballs

Work's fun. Hectic. Ridiculous. But it gets me out of my head and into customer relations, which is nice. My kitty's head is the nicest to kiss, even though she's only putting up with me due to hunger. Heh. How am I? Man, I don't know. I feel different. Everything is painted a different shade of whatever colour it was last week, but what does that even mean? I glance into the living room to my left, and it's the same array of warm earth tones and books. But it's not the same place, almost. Or maybe it's not that the living room's changed, but I have. The steam coming off the spaghetti noodles in front of me and the burn on my left pointer finger - feel different. Strange. Maybe I'm strange. Psh, not maybe. The rain was witness to that proof. I've got to get up at 5 tomorrow, so I should go to bed around ten. Strange, again. I don't think I like it.