Blowing Bubbles
There’s no glory in being well rested. I can only create semi-legendary fables from late nights and irresponsible escapades. After another BBQ and another step closer to the next waist size in trousers last night, I decided to have a rest at 8:30pm, with an aim toward getting up at 9:00 for laundry and housework and that kind of thing. Instead I slept through the alarm and rose at 6:30 this morning. How does one add to the mythology of thehandoftamm on 10 hours of sleep? It can’t be done. Exhaustion followed by rest is deadly dull. Exhaustion followed by double-ended candle burning is where the literary pay-off resides. I blew it. I’ve let you down, dear reader. (And I use that word in the singular as I optimistically imagine one person may eventually read this post.)
Here’s me in a bubble from my more adventuresome day earlier this week.
June 26th, 2008 at 9:44 am
Reader #1 reporting for duty.
June 29th, 2008 at 12:21 pm
Do I count as a ‘reader’ if I’m only here for the pictures of extreme-close-up hairbrushes and outtakes from Travolta’s “Boy in the Plastic Bubble”? (I sure hope the latter doesn’t have a thorn in his side — it would clearly end badly, not to mention quickly.)