So I had a relapse this morning. I couldn't get my head straight, so I turned on the television sans remote control. Without the remote, I couldn't turn the channel from TBS. Three hours. It was all unsatisfying and gross, like that bite of Spaghetti-Os you take to reminisce about those great childhood meals. First on was "Wimbledon," which is so outrageously bad that it must have been bullied into theaters by the heavy-handed Penn tennis ball corporation. Then back-to-back episodes of Home Improvement. I feel so betrayed.
Today, I will be much better. Sure, I won't shower, won't dress, won't get any fresh air, won't dance, but I definitely won't turn on the tele. TBS is the straight double shot of Moutai that I don't ever have to do again.
What I miss: the gym
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