Yet again, I'm supposed to be working, but amn't (thanks Po!). I've washed my hair, I've spent hours doing literally nothing, looking at random photographs of people I haven't thought of in ages, hung out with Bambi who is really not helping by reiterating how I'm wasting my life and yawning his rat encrusted halitosis breath all over me, etc. etc.
So after this post, I get down to work. A totally old school session of burning the midnight oil.
But first, dude, I want to clarify that this slow and deliberate fuckwittage might be considered a form of foreplay in some cultures, but in mine it just means A WHOLE DAY WASTED AND NO WORK DONE.
People, we're all adults. When do we start saying what we want to?
I conceptually understand that one does not become free-spirited by just wanting to not be a wreath of night-shade, but I can't help but think that certain people are plotting against me achieving the awesome peacefulness and happiness and hippieness that I can! The thought is tantalising and I'm just waiting for the opportunity to make my break for it.