I. Am. Bored.
And who gets to suffer from my boredom more than you, poor reader?
I can tell you that I own 174 movies. And I don't want to watch any of them.
I can tell you that the clock over our fireplace ticks forward 4 seconds, back one. Forward 4, back one.
Sick, sick, evil, clock.
I can tell you that I get hungry at 7 a.m., 9 a.m., 10:30 a.m., 11 a.m., well, you get the idea.
I can tell you that I am exhausted, I have plenty of time to sleep, but I really don't want to. I want to ride a roller coaster. And eat a churro. And pee in a public bathroom. It's that serious.
I miss IKEA and pointless shopping.
I miss bending over and standing up without agonizing pain.
I miss...I miss...I miss.
And my husband misses the house fairy. I miss her too.