The Choices We Make
OK so here’s a story about how the choices we make affect us in unexpected ways.
Tuesday night I made a decision to be social way past my bedtime. I also chose to drink almost an entire bottle of wine.
I chose to protest the end of social activities with “Oh, it doesn’t matter, I don’t have to get to bed early.”
As a consequence, I was as worthless as a dessicated sponge mop all day on Wednesday. Worthless at work, brain fog, no higher cognitive powers at all. So I chose to come home and take a nap. But I had also chosen to turn off my air conditioner, so I was hot and sweaty and tossing and turning and my nap was unfulfilling. I was still tired. So I chose to go out and get some chai and do some writing at the nice, cool Gelateria, because I had to get something done for The Grand Conspiracy today. That went well. But still I was sleepy. Then I came home and took a shower. When I got out of the shower I faced the prospect of dealing with my hair (+/- six hundred hours of hard labor) shaving my legs and then liberally applying lotion all over. I chose to skip the lotion, because it would save me five minutes and I just wanted to go fall in bed, dammit.
That meant this morning my legs were dry and itchy. So I chose to scratch them. And I scratched them so hard I chipped a nail. And now I have to go to a work luncheon with a chipped nail, like a total trashy hobag. So this is what I get for trying to be social. Do you see?
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