I did not sleep for five days or rather hundred and fifty hours and fifteen minutes give or take fifteen seconds. I cannot say that I have reached my limit yet, in terms of sleep deprivation. So far it has been rather unadventurous; there was that accident with the cheese. It rather prudently stated that it did not want to be ground. Which, of course, I had to explain, goes against the very nature of cheese. Instead of listening to reason, however, the block of cheese attempted a daring escape. I, for once, could not stand for such rudeness and ill manner. The process was painful. More so to the cheese than me I reckon. Next was the issue with eggs.
Now, I have no problem with eggs hatching but, according to my principals, they either have to be fully hatched or not hatched at all. In my case it was neither. I have a high regard for both farming and science but the unholy union of the two should not yield legged eggs. Especially when that said legs can be used for transportation. The ability of the egg to run across the kitchen floor on its little legs was, certainly, far inferior to mine, but the issue was farther complicated by the fact that it could hop. The chicken-egg, for that is what I chose to call it, ran wildly across the room hitting every imaginable obstruction on its path. The chicken-egg being blind, or at least it appeared so since only the legs have hatched, has put a serious obstacle in my breakfast menu. If the egg shell was to crack I will, most likely, have to consume cereal and I found that the squeaks of the numerous flakes have a deleterious effect on my appetite.
By some mysterious force acting against all manner of improbability, the chicken-egg has managed, though the method of trial and error which is still widely used and accepted in scientific community, to, through combination of hopping and running, carry its round form to the basement stairs. Personally I do not mind basements, unless there happened to be melons. Despite being rather fragile, such as the case with watermelons, they have a rather nasty habit of being hot-tempered, to the point where immediate explosion of their feelings is unavoidable; and so is the cleaning of their emotional outbursts afterwards. Of course the chicken-egg, beings blissful of such knowledge, carelessly leapt into the descending darkness just beyond the door.