Textbooks hurt your head when you have to read them three times over. They also hurt your head when they repeatedly make contact with your face. Here’s a tip: don’t read a textbook and take a nap at the same time. That’s a multi-task feat that has never worked for me, especially since I can’t sleep with my eyes open or keep my face from hitting my textbook. I really need to think about investing in some eBooks, or perhaps a book made out of pillows and equipped with a detachable down comforter. Or maybe a textbook made of the fluffy chocolate in Three Musketeers bars. Then I would have a comfortable surface to hit with my face and a delicious snack to boot.
But it is not to be. I’m stuck with my brick-hard psychology textbook and nothing to snack on but stale wheat thins and despair. I would cheer myself up by taking a walk, but I think that requires actual movement. So no walking for me. And I don’t have a car to drive, or a horse to ride on, or a boyfriend who is also a centaur who can give me a ride to Disneyland or maybe just the mall.
I suppose I could count the blessings I have instead of the centaur-related ones I don’t. For one, I have two boxes of Fruity Pebbles cereal. Two! That’s almost as good as a Three Musketeers pillow. I also have all ten fingernails. And a little scar on the back of my hand. I mean, who doesn’t want a little scar on the back of their hand? No one, that’s who.
I also have a tiny tribe of people carved out of string cheese who worship me regularly (if they don’t, I eat their little canoes). I’m like, super grateful for that. It’s pretty nice being worshipped by cheese-people. The cheese-people live in houses made of the empty wrappers from whence they came. The houses are on my desk. To appease my overlord whims, they build me cheese statues and do my easier homework assignments for me. In return, I give them more wrappers so they can make additions to their houses. One of them is putting in a pool tomorrow. But some of the teenage cheese hooligans have been spray-painting my statues. I think I’m going to have to eat a couple of canoes sometime soon to show them whose boss.
But it is time for the baby cheese nomads to go to bed, and my loud typing is keeping them up, poor things. Why didn’t I write my blog earlier, you ask? Because I am lazy and illogical, that’s why. Advice of the day: If you have little nomads made of cheese living on your desk, you probably shouldn’t tell your roommate that they make canoes and worship you.