As I look onto the sea of utter chaos that is my house after a very eventful evening, I can't help but wonder ... was it really worth it?
There are a few things I can't help but think about and cringe. Let's just say I have a long evening ahead of me. Again. My place is a wreck and I audibly groan at the sight of my living room and the state of my potentially ruined leather reclining sofa. It was someone's (Zak Pulis) bright idea to jump on it in some form of makeshift pile-up gag, and now it's busted. A joy to try and fix. I will boggle my mind with that later however, because the most pressing issues lie in just cleaning the bloody mess.
Then again, if this hadn't happened, Sara wouldn't be yelling at my Playstation. Something along the lines of, "Why are the police after me?! FUCK! A helicopter!". I find this amusing. Either because it really is amusing or because I feel so superior. Or both.
The regret of passing up some fun while the house is mine would still, arguably, be greater than that of knowing I have a lot to clean up and take care of after the fun, but that reality is a little hard to see at this very moment. I can't really call anyone in my family to help and exhaustion is taking its toll. "Gotta love insomnia", I tell myself as my arm slips off my desk and I punch myself in the jaw.
I don't believe in luck, but if I did, I'd ask you to wish it for me, so good afternoon the interwebz.
"For all sad words on tongue or pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been.' "
ReplyDelete~John Greenleaf Whittier~