Tuesday, February 5, 2013

snoozy

Potato-face Princess is awoken by a wayward puppy.
Princess is befabbled. Many times she has come home from work like a sluggish slog, wanting nothing more than to fall into a big tub of ice cream, take a nap, and then eat her way out. But when she goes home and exchanges her pencil skirt for something decidedly stretchier, she is so THRILLED to be depenciled that she accidentally emerges from her sloggy fog and thinks, “THE POSSIBILITIES FOR MY EVENING ARE ENDLESS!!!!!!!!” and dances around the house with her puppies while thinking of 97 things she wants to do, like paint, read her book, learn songs on the guitar, go to the movies, organize her closet, PINTEREST, and go to bed early. The whole situation looks a little like this, except you can't tell how tired Princess is in the first picture because she was trying to be attractive (SELFIES Y'ALL):

So guess what happens then? She does like 5 of those things and forgets to do the last thing, the going to bed thing, which is the most important thing, because when she does not do that thing she wakes up back in her muddy haze, thinking to herself, “Surely I can press the snooze a few more times” and “Surely I will have time to grab some Starbucks” and “Surely I can get away with doing nothing to my hair” and "Surely I'll have time to make my lunch" and “Oops I’m late” and “Oops I must again face the 8th graders with no caffeine” and “Oops my hair looks weird” and "Oops I guess I'll have to eat pepperonis for lunch." Not good, people. Not good. So then she says, “Today I will be better. I will fight the urge to create random things!! I will go to bed! I will get up when the alarm tells me to! I will be responsible!” This never works. She's spent time the past two days painting this random piece of plywood and confusing herself and her husband. Does she even like the painting? She doesn't know, but she couldn't leave the plywood sitting in the backyard tempting her, could she??? The saga continues because there are STILL TWO PIECES OF PLYWOOD IN THE BACKYARD and she can't stop thinking about them. Oy.


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