It could have been doing a whole bunch of yard work that required me to dig up a spout drain, fix it, bury it, move incredibly heavy large brick step things all over, lug around bags of stone, spread stone, level out earth, then keep the dogs from digging up everything that I did in 4 hours in just seconds and not eating all day (except for a tasty roast beef sandwich and venti iced 3 pump mocha) that caused me to wake up this morning, down three motrins for breakfast, lay down again and wish for death.
Having just written one of the world’s longest sentences, you can tell I’m not exactly 100% yet.
I have wasted an entire weekend day (a three day weekend day) laying in bed and wishing for sudden death. There was that lovely part where I threw up bits of Activia Peach poo inducing yogurt into the toilet... and my hair. Yeah, that really motivated me to want death even more. Note to self: while having a hair style that is all one length is pretty kick ass and cool looking, it does not bode well during situations where you are leaning into a toilet bowl and heaving up bits of peach yogurt. Heaving requires the use of two hands to keep from falling into the nasty ass toilet bowl that you kept telling yourself that you would actually clean one of these days, but it didn’t seem as important as it did until your head is leaning into it, therefore it never got done. The use of two hands to keep yourself from falling head first into said nasty ass toilet means no hands to keep the wonderful cool hairdo from falling into your face and into the direct line of Activia spew.
The worst part of all this was that I missed my annual Indy 500 ritual. That sucks.