Monday, June 14, 2010

In space, no one can read you scream

I've discovered that sanity is not, in fact, an expendable renewable resource.  Instead, it's like land cards in the game Magic: The Gathering; you keep having to tap it to survive and some jackass next to you can steal or destroy it for, like, nothing.

The older I get, the harder it is for me to sleep.  This is partially because I suffer from that apnea you get when allergies clog your goddamn nose, and partially because I care more about the things I'm not doing as the years go by (whoo stress yeah).  In the past 6 months of living at home, my sleep cycle, allergies, and amount of free time have all worsened, inasmuch as each of those can have a "worse" setting.  Meanwhile, my dad is sleeping better, sneezing less, and watching 5 hours of TV a day on top of his copious internet news consumption.

Today, the Conquistador Lord threw a hissy fit because my mother and I did not arrive in time to sate his lordship's hunger with our meager meal offerings.  We have steady, paying jobs.  He burns his savings on Trappist Beer while awaiting the outcome of his minions' latest failed venture and the world cup matches of the day.

I need to fucking move out al-goddamn-ready.

1 comment:

  1. One sign of stresses is you forgetting your own blog address.

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