Saturday, Jan. 06, 2007

Why Is It...?

Why is it that I am tired all day, tired when I get up, tired in the middle of the day, tired in the early evening, but when it comes time for me to seriously consider going to bed, like around 10p, I'm wide, wide awake? And then, I'll play this cute little game with myself where I'm all, "I should go to bed, it's [fill in the blank with time between 10p and 3a] and I was tired all day. I don't want to be exhausted all day tomorrow." And then I say, "Nah, I'm not tired now, might as well [fill in the blank with appropriate time wasting activity, including but not restricted to: playing goofy computer games, writing, doing an entry here, reading other people's journals, watching stupid things on tv that I don't even like, reading]."

And then? Next thing I know, it's 2 in the morning, and I'm like, holy crap, it's 2! My kid will be getting up in 6 hours, why the Hell did I do this to myself again?! Aaarrrggghhhh!

***

Why is it that something sounds good or important until I set about doing it, and then it's just a silly thing that I shouldn't have worried about in the first place? And why is it that I dread doing other things, until I make myself do them, and then I'm like, why didn't I do that earlier?

I mean, do I hate myself? Why do I play these games?

***

Why is it that my senile old cat just wanders around in circles, meowing at ABSOLUTELY NOTHING? What is this for? Is this the feline equivalent of wandering around the house, muttering under his breath about "those damn kids" and "newfangled automobiles"?

Of all of us here in the house, I definitely have the highest tolerance for the cat's meowing, but even I have my limits. Kidlet will just chase him around until he's too freaked out to meow, and my folks just want to stuff the cat in a box and mail him to Brazil. Where, I bet, he'll promptly learn how to meow in Portugese and find his way back here to yowl at us in two languages. Goofy cat.

***

Why is it that I get all wound up watching NFL games for teams that aren't even mine? Well, I kind of have an answer for this one -- one, I love the game itself, and I just get all edge-of-my-seat about it, and two, I was trying to lend my energy to the Cowboys, rooting for them for a good friend of mine. Unfortunately, it didn't work. And now, I'm seeing images in my head of Romo fumbling that damn fieldgoal snap in the last two minutes of the game. Say what you will about Dallas, or about Romo as a player, but I bet you money that this man is hating his own self tonight, and if I were him, I'd be drunk off my ass right now. I mean, damn.

In other football news, it seems that a couple of high school teams hijacked the uniforms of the Colts and the Chiefs and played in their places this afternoon, because holy smokes people, it helps if you actually call some plays like a real coach and not insist on a running game that gets you yardage so negative that you need a number line to count it correctly, especially when you have a perfectly capable quarterback, who happened to get his bell rung hard in the first part of the season, but has come on back wit a quickness, and you STILL insist on being all, "Hm. Green has a great arm... hm. Throw... the... ball? Nah! Give it to the RB! Yeah! Go!... What? Third down and 45? Shit!"

And Peyton? WTF? Love ya, son, mean it, but... yeah, WTF just about covers it. Same goes for you Marvin.

Sheesh.

***

Alright, I'm REALLY going to bed now.

Right after I play some minesweeper...

saturncat at 11:55 p.m.

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