all... by... MY... self...
Reruns of CSI on Spike.
Popcorn for dinner.
Bed at 9:30.
Aimless internet browsing.
Three books up, three books down.
Two discs of Battlestar Galactica: Season 2.0.
Pets don't talk back (well, except for Oz).
Transformers actually looks *good*.
Unanswered calls = immediate tendrils of anxiety.
Returned calls = sheepish confession of worry.
Sigh count: 1,352,547. Mostly generated by boredom.
Could work out... nah.
Give the dogs a bath? Nah.
Read another book? Might as well.
Popcorn for dinner.
Bed at 9:30.
Aimless internet browsing.
Three books up, three books down.
Two discs of Battlestar Galactica: Season 2.0.
Pets don't talk back (well, except for Oz).
Transformers actually looks *good*.
Unanswered calls = immediate tendrils of anxiety.
Returned calls = sheepish confession of worry.
Sigh count: 1,352,547. Mostly generated by boredom.
Could work out... nah.
Give the dogs a bath? Nah.
Read another book? Might as well.
Labels: boredom
Awww... It sucks to be by yourself, especially when you're used to having your man around :(
I am SO crossing my fingers for you on that job interview in Maine, though!
Posted by
Amanda |
11:58 AM