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My days off are less fun than my days on.

My Days Off Are Less Fun Than My Days On.

I’m having one of those days that just won’t get going, or, more specifically, one of those blogs that just won’t get going. I’ve had nothing to write about for weeks. My theory is that its because I ventured out into the world and started talking face to face with other human beings, so all of the things I would have otherwise felt the pressing need to write about have been passed along in the oral tradition instead. The other theory is that I’ve been lazy.

I did get a blog done though this morning, finally. Then I tried to upload a picture and ‘Safari quit responding’ and I lost everything. I can’t recreate it so I’ll give it to you in a nutshell: My days off are less fun than my days on. Porn forces me to have a life.


Yesterday I spent my day off getting my blood drawn, my tattoo lasered, and pins haphazardly stuck to me from all angles at the tailor. It left me walking around with cotton balls and ice taped to various parts of my body. I was up at 6 am and sat in front of the computer until noon answering emails and fielding phone calls and tracking down returns and credits. I made a thousand dollars back just by calling out companies on their shit. I opened up and re-signed and re-addressed all of the physical fan mail I’d taken care of the day before because my rabbit ate it when I left it next to the front door to drop in the mail box. I sprayed my entire house down with bunny anti-chew spray. Again.

There are nibble marks on my fucking window shades.

And now I’m spending today’s day off re-writing a blog before I re-clean my rabbit cage and go to the gym and then shower and go out into the world with the people and the sunshine, where I will run more errands. At some point I’ll settle back down in front of the computer for more emails and phone calls, I’ll post ads for the kittens I took in because it looks like home #1 fell through, I’ll mediate between the kittens and the rabbit when they fight over the litter box, I’ll clean up the neat pile my rabbit leaves next to the litter box in protest, and I’ll try to think of something to really blog about while I marvel at the fact that, yet again, I’ve managed to blog about having nothing to blog about.


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