I Go Bed
Just as I was getting onto the subway at Kenmore Square, I heard this kid behind me on a cellphone say, "And I told him, ‘I’m not old. I’m not, like, twenty-five.’" Is it wrong that I wanted to turn around and strangle him? Nobody would convict me, would they? I think I would get off. I think I would and you know what, I think I’m gonna go drive back into Boston and find him. Yeah, that’s the ticket!
I’m a little worn out tonight. I don’t think I anticipated how much the job and, even more to the point, the commute, was going to take out of me. I come home and I don’t want to do anything. Couple that with Stephanie’s tiredness from class on Wednesday and Thursday nights and you have a recipe for disaster. Witness our kitchen.
If I weren’t so burnt out, I would take the digital camera downstairs and get you a shot of it. It’s really just awful. I don’t think we’ve done the dishes in a week. We’re ordering food right now simply out of laziness. I took out something for dinner this morning, but neither one of us wants to cook it.
What would we do if we had a dog to look after, or a kid? I don’t even want to think about it. I mean, maybe it would be a good influence on us. Maybe we would take care of ourselves better as a little added bonus. I don’t know.
Anyway, I sleepy. I go bed.