My Gills are Killing Me...

It's late, I'm tired, I have nothing to say and I'm hungry because I forgot to eat lunch today. Again, that's part of the dilemma of working from home. There's no one to say, "Hey, where do you guys wanna go to lunch today?" I know there's nothing up in the kitchen that I want to eat, so I say to myself, "Ah, I'll get something in a minute. I just have to finish this one last thing..."

Then it's 6:30.

I used to go upstairs around midday just to warm up for 10 minutes or so, but I got this new sweatshirt from Old Navy that's apparently lined with yak fat, or plutonium and now I'm sweating my nardleys off. So I sit in my freezing basement, sweating and not eating, and I never leave. I occasionally shift from one ass cheek to the other so as not to get bed-sores. And now, at 11:38, I feel that it's finally time to breach ground level and call it a night.

Five bucks says that, by the end of winter, I'm gonna look like this:



Although, hopefully my nipples won't be so rouge-y.