How did I get here?

There's a lot of pleasure to be gained from waking up on a couch. When the sofa is far too small or generally uncomfortable; when midnight is the hour that your shuteye arrives; when there's some source of blue light glow, that's how you guarantee that you get some trash-ass sleep. And along with it, a compulsion to ask yourself, "How did I get here?" I'm not sure if we get many opportunities in our lives to speculate on our existence in such an immediate manner. We are made to understand our this-ness for a brief period, not a particular grossness but this particular grossness, and this which brought us here in the first place.

Proceed with caution and scarcity when following this guide.