You get to lie uncomfortably in bed for 45 minutes, wondering if you should grab an extra Benadryl and crawl righ back under the covers, or give up and just get back on the computer and bore yourself in an upright position for another 45 minutes.
You get to stand in your kitchen for 10 aimless minutes after taking that extra Benadryl, alternately looking in your cupboard, fridge and what you call a pantry (to put on airs) before finally deciding you're not hungry enough to have to go through brushing your teeth again. Which proves exactly how lazy you are, since there's pecan pie in the house.
You get to do calculations in your head regarding how much time you can reasonably waste online before you really, really have to get to sleep, or you'll look, act and smell* like Baba Yaga in the morning.
You get to Google "Baba Yaga" because, hey - maybe your great grandmother just made her up as a way to get you to brush your hair, and you don't want to look like some kind of crazy person in front of the 5 people who read your blog, 2.5 of whom are just glad this isn't another fakakta entry about your stupid Sims game.
I mean, seriously. It's not for you. You don't want to take my place. I wouldn't let you if you begged me.
Oh, you've read Tom Sawyer? Fuck you, then.
*I've never actually smelled Baba Yaga, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say a safe bet is that her breath smells like chewed-up children.
3 comments:
I officially award you the prize for "Best Punchline Ever"!
Thank you, good sir. Is the prize bragging rights?
I also think it's important to mention that I didn't sleep more than a few minutes that night, and when I read your comment, I had to ask my husband to explain when I'd made a joke. My properties had noticeably slowed.
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