I do not like a long work day
I do not like it, even the pay
I do not like to get up early
For that, I’m afraid, makes me surly
I cannot stand an early alarm
They do no good, only harm
And I do not like to leave my bed
It makes me sad and hurts my head
The moral here, if I’m not crazy,
Is that I’m tired, worn, and lazy
But that’s okay, and I’m alright,
Because I get to sleep tonight!
Some people don’t
Some people can’t
Some people don’t even get the chance.
So I’ll stop complaining, ‘cause when it’s raining
I’m not worrying, stressing or straining.
I have a roof, and I have a bed
I have a job, no shortage of bread
I’m content, but should I be?
I’m not sure. Don’t ask me.
I’m hoping WordPress will address this issue soon. My blog has some gigantic holes in it. I logged in today to find drafts everywhere. No sooner than I had finished filling in my password, did I feel a stiff breeze coming out of my computer screen. It knocked over several of the items on my desk, and I’ve lost a bunch of papers that simply flew away. This is unacceptable.
I just can’t explain the origin of all these drafts. Every time I start to write another post, another draft pops up, and I can’t seem to get anything published. Quite ridiculous, really.
Just the other day I started to write what I knew would be an absolutely superb piece on the moral dilemma that faces us when we are forced to make hard decisions. I got distracted by something in the other room, and I had to walk away from my blog. Somebody must have poked a hole in my site while I was away because there it was: another draft.
I think this all started way back when I tried to write a post about a rubber ducky. I smelled some pop tarts cooking in the other room, and I simply had to go find the source. My blog just hasn’t been the same since.
Fairie Tales, (trying to be) funny stories, inane antics, and completely ridiculous anecdotes, nothing seems to be able to get to that revered published state… I’ve combed through them all, looking for a way to maybe plug the hole and kill the draft, but nothing seems to work. I’ve tried rubber bands, chewing gum, duct tape, and even a few pots of coffee, but none of them solved my issue. I’m hoping that I can get this resolved soon.
I’m starting to think that this might be a problem with the whole blogging world. I’m certain that it’s not a problem with me. I’ll deny to the bitter end. I mean, I’ve been accused of procrastination before, but this is a structural problem, I’m almost certain of it. Brrr… It’s starting to get kinda cold in here.
In the mean time, I think I’m going to… wait, someone’s at the door. I’ll finish this later.
I do believe I have a serious problem, particularly pertaining to my desk(s). I simply cannot seem to keep them organized. I have a fairly decent system. Books go in a pile in the corner, pens go in that cup, other pens go in that other cup… more pens go in the other three cups. (I have a lot of pens.) I just can’t seem to maintain that system. It’s never a conscious rebellion; I just place something on my desk, and soon it’s invited all of its friends and relatives to the party. “Oh, hello Laser Pointer! I heard that we’re having a Hang Out on Chris’ Desk Party,” said the stapler to the laser pointer.
It’d be pretty awesome if my desk was somewhat sentient. I don’t want it to be completely so, but maybe just enough to the point that when I placed something out of place, it would rebel and knock it off or incinerate it or something. “RAWR! You do not belong here, shoelaces!” *fwoosh* And thus I had to buy new shoelaces… again.
Though, I suppose that could be a problem. If my desk were intelligent enough to distinguish between acceptable objects and not, then I might have larger problems on my hands than just untidiness. The Night of the Living Desks. Also, desk civil rights?
But seriously, I’m not sure that I’ll ever really solve this problem. I think it might be genetic. Somewhere in the Human Genome Sequence is a thread for tendencies towards having untidy desks. I’m sure all the important scientists are working on the problem now. Right? Of course right!
And now for something completely different.
I feel that I have neglected Pop Tarts for far too long now. My heart has yearned to write of them, and my taste buds have longed for the sensations of their delightfulfullness and magnificence. My toaster has sat waiting patiently, yet mournfully. My cabinets, though by no means empty, have long looked as though they’re missing some vital component. These very words pain me to write, yet I feel that I must. Maybe I’ll pick some up at Walmart today…
Bye for now!