Allie knows me too well:
I’d put in things like “opening mail” and “keeping on top of coursework”, and I do manage to clean the cat box every day, but otherwise, yeah.
Wally Torta Muzik (Muzik Torta?) has the same thing going on:
My father used to ask me when I was going to grow up. Except he often used to insert “the hell” between “when” and “I”. And I would answer him “April 12, 1978.” . . .Now, suddenly, in a warp of time, space, and some a them string-theory dimensions, I find myself way way over on the other side of April 12, 1978 without having made the slightest bit of progress in my quest.
So I’m in good company, I guess, even though I can’t really draw.
Which mean I’m behind good company.
Figures.
h/t: Hyperbole and a Half and CrackskullBob
AbsurdBeats 