I finaly, after almost 6 months, got another job. I file papers 8 days a month... 5 hours a day. Shit, I know that people are suposed to carve there own paths for life, but carving my own seems like to much work. I'm suposed to be working... but its only been an hour into the work day. fuck it, i think i'll just read a book. Current Mood: bored
So, the other day I'm making plans on whether or not I should plan out a picnic lunch for my babe and I. I decide that I would write said plans down for later use. I'm thinking about writing these plans, which are masterfully thought out and intricate in a way that is both romantic and extraordinary. A few minutes later I made a sandwich with peanut butter -- I couldn't bother myself to use the grape jelly. I mean come on, the knife I was using got mussed up by the peanut butter and using a clean knife required either cleaning the messy one or opening the drawer to obtain a fresh one. This was too much, too fast. I put the sandwich down.
I took a nap that lasted a mere ten minutes (a true nap!), woke up and thought to myself, 'I should write those plans down one of these days.'
I had a quarter tank of gas ...
yadda yadda yadda ... I'm stranded on the side of the highway, IH-35 going south. I waited for something to happen, but nothing happened. Then, out of nowhere, silence... Then, a cricket chirped.
I finally got around to posting something here... yeah. That is all.