Every winter I have four weeks off work. The first two are spent doing Holiday things like eating cookies and figuring out which types of alochol taste best when laced with peppermint. The last two are spent eating leftover Christmas cookies and making lists of all the projects I need to do while I have all this time.
I'm in the third week of my break this year, and I have yet to cross off one item on that to-do list.
I blame the 80+ degree weather, the fact that I've given up booze for a month, and my pure, unadulterated laziness.
And the fact that I've woken up every day with the exact same thought: fuck it, I'll do whatever I feel like today.
The hard copies of all my photos have yet to be scanned so that they can be stored digitally and not take up the space in the closet of my second guest room that I in no way need, the room that is supposed to be converted into my office still smells way too much like boy, and I have yet to color-coordinate my winter wardrobe.
There is a giant pile of new clothes on the floor of my closet that I haven't put away. The load of laundry I started three days ago is growing moldy in the washing machine. The Christmas tree, though undecorated, is STILL in my living room.
But, goddamn, do I have some amazing tan lines.
And? I am content.
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