Day Thirty-Seven

I am realizing more and more how much I hate Thursdays; how much I despise this day. This being my only day off, I am torn between allowing myself a day of rest and relaxation on one hand, and trying to accomplish twenty different tasks I have both started and would like to start on the other. Unfortunately, I normally defer to the latter which really isn't THAT bad, except the truth behind this fact. When I get bored, I want to smoke. Plain and simple. The moment when I think to myself, 'I wonder what I should do right now', my immediate response is, 'Go outside and smoke a cig and think about it'.

This, normally, helps. It allows me to clear my mind and settle the perpetual nervous energy pumping through my veins like coffee through a percolator. Normally, I feel like this bassline:

which is cool, because I love Frank Zappa (especially this song), except I oftentimes run my mind in circles until all I can handle is the round of television judges starting with The People's Court and ending with Judge Judy at 5:00. My cigarette habit provided me with the excuse to go outside, breathe fresh air, and get my shit in order.

Not these days, however. Who needs to control every single moment on their day off? Not this guy! I think I might go for a walk with my shoes off in the snow and smoke something else and wonder if my natural body heat can melt the snow off my sidewalk. Then I think I am going to make a pot roast from the best cookbook ever and some twice baked potatoes and perhaps steam some broccoli and have a grand old time. But maybe I will just wait and call for take-out. Who the fuck cares! It's my day off, and I stand strong against the cigs. Eventually, I can get my head on straight again, if it ever really was.