It’s morning, y’all. I know this, because the clock says so. Otherwise, the outside world looks exactly like it did when we went to bed last night. The only difference is the coffee pot gurgling this morning. Chaucer is pacing on the pirate chest we use as a footstool. He wants Shawshank‘s lap.
Sloth Day went off without any problems- not that we expected any. Shawshank made brunch for us, and I played Skyrim most of the afternoon. The cats slept all day, because they’re cats and that’s what cats do. Later, Shawshank made us a dinner of poutine and popcorn chicken nuggets.
I watched while he played “No Man’s Sky” for a while. I’m still jealous of his funky, bright planets. My “tutorial base” is in a desert planet that looks like a ball of poo with sticks stuck in it. Every planet I’ve gone to is a barren hellscape, aside from the one that was covered in water. I started a second base on a gorgeous planet, but I’ve yet to actually do anything more than tell the game “the base goes here”. He joked about me starting a new Skyrim same, with an unarmed brawler of a khajiit.
Today, being Tuesday, might be nice. Shawshank has work, and the vacuum will be coming out shortly after he leaves the house. I might hop into the tub and shave my legs, maybe bleach my hair. It’ll be a typical day.
