The minutes are ticking away until I have to start an eventful tuesday. Well, only two events--but they take up a lot of time. Summerschool, then work.
But I'm getting lazier with each tick of the clock. By the time tock rolls around, I might just crawl back into my bed.
What would I like to do today? Watch The Notebook, Bridget Jones' Diary, Romeo + Juliet and other assorted love-story movies while sippin' on some hot chocolate stuffed to the rim with marshmallows.
Or, if it ends up being hot today, I'd like to take a ride in my 84 Beamer and cruise down the 56 to Del Mar so I could get a glimpse of the devastatingly beautiful ocean. I love driving with the windows rolled down, as to achieve the messiest hairdo possible.
However, I cannot do either of those things today. I've got to go to work for the man, dammit!
Ok, so my manager is a woman, but that's besides the point. I'm speaking metaphorically here.
Humans are not meant to work themselves to a pulp. So why is my day consumed with work, papers and more work?
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