Today was about to be flushed down the toilet… i had my fingers resting on the shiny metal handle and i really wanted to just wash my hands of it. Nap. Play guitar. Anything to pass the time and get it down the drain already. And then, out of nowhere, a nosey little voice chimed in that i can’t claim to be liking life if i want days to just end, so i was forced to get up off my ass and into some clothing.

Would you believe i’ve avoided picking up my dry-cleaning for a week because i missed the pickup day and was afraid of being reprimanded by the dry cleaner? Seriously. I have to walk by it every day to get on and off my block, but i was too afraid of what excuse i’d need for not having picked up my favourite slacks and dress shirt. It’s funny which sorts of social interactions can really stop me in my tracks. Anyhow, once i managed to get in and out of there (without any commentary on my lateness and neglect) i cleaned my room, did laundry, and paid bills. So, yeah, maybe it stinks, but at least i’m not wasting it.