Sing a song of sixpence
I would have cherished Daylight Savings a bit more if it hadn’t have been for some fucktard outside my window having some loud sort of conversation around 3:00 am. I hate all people sometimes.
More than a few times a week, it just occurs to me that I’m an adult. That means I have to:
1. Have a job
2. Buy my own food
3. Make my own meals
4. Buy my own everything; and
5. Do my own laundry
Of course, it also means I can:
1. Do pretty much anything I want whenever I want.
Still, there are times like last night when I was absolutely exhausted, but had to pick up my clothes from the laundromat before it closed when I still wish I was a kid. Like how you would fall asleep in the car, and when you got home, your mom or dad would carry you, still asleep, to your bed. And you didn’t have to take out your contacts or wash and moisturize your face. You just fell asleep and had a wonderful, uninterrupted night’s sleep.
I might be willing to give up doing pretty much anything I wanted whenever I want to if I could just have someone carry me off to sleep every night.
