Two Days Is Not Enough.

It’s sunday night. I am doing homework. Courtney is taking an early evening nap. I don’t really understand her reasoning. She gets into bed at 8:30 and I walk in the room and say “Do you want the light off?” She replies “No I’m only taking a nap.” “Starting at 8:30?” I inquire?” She nods her head and then continues to fall into a deep sleep. I highly doubt she will be waking up only to go to bed again. Why not just brush your teeth and stuff and then just go to bed? 

Normally at this time of night Ashley and I would be simultaneously using our laptops to do various things online. But Ashley is gone. Gone back to Canada… I now have no one to virtually spend time with side by side but in complete silence. We will be virtually spending time with each other on Skype soon I hope. 

So as much as I like Sundays… I kinda dread them. All day your having a good time, but it’s hard to enjoy it because the coming workday is hanging heavy overhead. It’s like there’s a little man with a crazy beard, coffee stained shirt, and an empty brief case (it is empty because people don’t actually carry things in them. They just carry them so that people think they are busy) sitting on your shoulder whispering into your ear saying “Tomorrow is work. You have to spend all day staring at a boring desktop screen, and doing inane tasks that give you no sense of accomplishment.” I hate that little guy.

I’ve just noticed something about myself. I always think that there are little invisible men on my shoulders whispering into my ear, and making my life miserable.

Courtney just briefly woke up. I heard her walking. I think she is now back in bed.

This thing that we call a weekend… Is it really a weekend? I like to think of it as a week-beginning. You start the week off with some fun, then you do the boring stuff. Eat your desert first. You never know if your going to have room for your strawberry pie if your eating all the roast beef. That way you don’t have to stuff in the pie at the last minute making yourself feel bloated and crampy. Just my philosophies. 

I wish that I could slow time. Every morning I wish that I could clench my fist at the clock and make the hands stop moving so that I could get an hour more of sleep. Then when I am refreshed and reenergized I can unclench my fist at the clock and time begins to move again. Or fast forwarding time through extremely boring parts of my life like Biology class.That would be my super power. Manipulating time. Everyone always says flying or mind reading. Well thats just a waist of time and energy…

I wish I wasn’t so sleep dependent…

This goes out to all those people who are sitting on their couch on Sunday night and thinking to themselves… ” I don’t want to go to work tomorrow.”

Best Wishes,

Carli