Goofy Confessions Used to be Thing

Confessional Mondays or whatever used to be one of those go-to joke posts or go-to emotional posts that people would use for inspiration in the days before Facebook consumed all everything.  To remind myself to attempt to live up to my own ideals, here is a hopefully funny, but probably lamely egotistical posts.*

I often confuse Cracker Barrel with Crate and Barrel.

I thoroughly enjoy and support high school robotics competitions, but worry about the use of drone technology by any entity.

I don't read as much as I'd like, but I am playing video games much less than earlier times in my life.

I can barely keep up with the pace of the New Yorker's print schedule, mostly because I spend so much time in my garden during the day.

I have not applied to jobs because I was worried I would be offered those jobs.

I find mowing my lawn tedious, but will spend hours weeding around my roses, hyacinths, irises, and lilies.

I am willing to shoot a deer, but almost cried when I ran over a hiding rabbit with my lawnmower. 

I refuse to look in medical textbooks, unless I am forced to perform surgery after the whateveralypse.

I have many books on my shelves that I haven't read because I want my guests to think I have read them.  This desire has greatly lessened since Lady Chemisty joined my life.

I like to think advertising doesn't work on me.

I have yet to finish writing a single story.

* 90% of this sentence is redundant.

Creatures of the Night

I have never been sure of my habits. Am I a day-sider masquerading as a night-timer, or a night-timer with day-side longing? Or am I some desperately bisexual crepuscular fiend, hiding in the fringes, receiving no convincing arguments from either side, and yet hoping for any indication of a hoped-for success in any lifestyle? Whichever the case, I've still got more miles to go before the comfort of my bed, and, oddly enough, a few graveyards to cross on my way, like a goth Jimmy Clif.

Wallowing

Why is wallowing a negatively associated verb? Pigs are happy when they wallow. They roll around in mud and leaves and sticks and shit and it's all very good for the pig. They're happy. The bugs can't get at them and the mud keeps them cool in the summer. When they un-wallow, the mud dries and flakes off and is probably great for their skin.

So why do we call it wallowing when a person hides out in their apartment all day? I wish I was so lucky as to be rolling around in some healthy mud. Instead, I'm doing laundry and looking for work.