I have this list of meaningless things I hate to do. It’s not a real list, it’s just in my head, but it’s definitely there. And lately, it’s been compounding.
I’ve always kind of hated filling ice cube trays, an effort which usually ends with me having to mop the floor, which I only mildly hate to do. And you always seem to have to fill the ice trays just when you’re in the mood for a cocktail, thus delaying your liquid pleasure and making your life harder. I hate it when things make my life harder.
And pumping gas. I hate that. Like, you’re going places, you’re doing things, and then, oop! Gas light’s on! Gotta stop! And it’s always raining or cold or snowing while I’m standing at the pump. Always.
I’m not big into showering, mostly because I hate getting out and being all wet, but also because I hate shaving my legs. Washing my hair’s recently gone on the list as well, as has brushing my teeth at night. Unrelated to the shower but in the realm of the bathroom, so it bears mentioning.
What’s been troubling me recently, though, is that I hate standing up once I’ve sat down. Like, this is a primary function of life, right, standing up, but I sit down and I get so damn comfortable, and I hate being uncomfortable, so I hate getting up. I’ve taken to having B! fetch me items like a glass of wine from the kitchen, a box of tissues from the bathroom, or that thing over there by the DVDs. It’s bad, people.
Pretty soon, just breathing is going to start bugging me. And then where will we be? Where, indeed?
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