Any minute now a big ole stalk of broccoli is going to come waltzing through my front door and sit me down for an intervention.
I’m not sure what happened to me, but over the last week it would appear that a frat boy has taken over my body. A normal day for me usually looks like this:
9am-12pm: Work/Breakfast while working
8pm-Whenever: Watch TV/Take a Class/Have a Date/Grab Drinks with Friends/Etc.
Over the last week, it’s looked more like this:
10am: Open eyes and curse a little
11 am: Actually get out of bed
11:30-to 12:30: Stare blankly at laptop and decide that working is over-rated
12:30-5pm: Order takeout, watch N3mbers: Season 2 on Netflix
5-6pm: Look at the dishes in my sink and wish that they could get all Fantasia and do themselves
6pm: Resolve that tomorrow is another day for dishwashing, start perusing Delivery.com options for dinner
7pm: Eat a pizza and wonder if the gym misses me. Sucker.
8pm: Feel bloated and gross and decide that it’s time once again to stare at the keyboard.
Sometimes, I just fall off the deep end, a land of unwashed dishes and too much delivery. I think I’ve hit my max, I woke up this morning feeling like I never wanted to eat again and like I would probably make out with a treadmill next time I saw one. I guess that means the funk is coming to a close, and good riddance. Now, to tackle the dishes.