I need to get off my ass and do a workout.
It’s like, do you even want to do your job anymore?
No?
It’s like, do you even want to do your job anymore?
No?
Yesterday, I had to physically turn one cat’s ass so that it was over the litterbox and HOLD HIM THERE so he wouldn’t shit on the kitchen floor AGAIN. The other one can’t have a meal without purging half of it like he’s 1990’s Kate Moss. I feel ya.
Now let me tell you, I’ve never wrote or scribbled in a book. Well, my college text books, but not a novel. But in this one, I’ve written in it. A lot. I’ve added highlighter as well. So much so, that I can’t really lend the book to anyone. It would look like the work of a madman. Maybe that’s what I was working toward.
If anyone ever wanted to know how Shawshank spent his 105 days in ICE detainment, he read House of Leaves at least five times, and was inspired to actually do a write-up on it.