We are accidents waiting to happen
Happy new year. I won't go on that typical diatribe about how time is just a construct and years don't actually exist on their own. But as long as it's an excuse to get smashed and party all night, I guess that's good enough.

I have a whole extra week before I have to place my little pug nose on that large, creaking grindstone again. I'm talking about school, kids. And work at the paper and the library. Actually, I've got to get crackin' on some stories for the paper next week. Our back-to-school issue hits stands on the 12th, so we lay out late next week. Work. Ew. I so prefer sitting around in my sweat pants, playing video games.

I love having nothing to do, but I'm in a constant state of feeling guilty because of my lack of productivity. God, how the system has messed me up. I'm only content when I'm workingworkingworkingworking.