How much of a stinker am I? I spent most of the afternoon napping/watching football on the couch while Kristian hung drywall on our basement stairs. I stayed awake for the majority of the Patriots’ game, but then my train took a sudden turn towards Sleepy Town. Even as we speak, I’m trying to keep my eyes open so as not to keel over and drop my laptop. Kristian claims that he doesn’t mind that I’m not helping, this was his project not mine. But, I still feel like a total slacker. Not enough to get up, mind you, but I do feel bad.
I will make it up to him later this week when I do a whole bunch of painting (Kristian haaaaaates painting).
I am trying my hardest to pay close attention to this football game, because the Jets have to beat Miami in order for the Pats to make it into the playoffs. I, along with countless other New England fans, am forced to root for the Jets. It’s not quite as bad as being forced to root for the Colts or even the (gulp!) Yankees, but it still turns my stomach a bit.
Maybe that’s why I keep falling asleep? My brain can’t take the strain and then says, “Ok, I’m out of here!” and shuts down.
We spent yesterday hanging out with my paternal Grandparents down in CT (we weren’t able to spend Christmas with them, so we drove down for the day) and this morning hosting a brunch at our house for my Dad, my sister and various other folks. As a result, the house is now full of delicious things that I shouldn’t eat. Really shouldn’t eat. Really, really shouldn’t eat. As Beans would say, by accepting the tin of cookies and the half a pie, I completely and utterly sabotaged myself.
Sabotaged myself with deliciousness!
Note to self: if the Jets lose, resist the urge to drown your sorrows in cookies. After all, it can’t be all that bad when the Jets lose, right?
Right?