How Did Doing Laundry Come To This?

up all night, only Emma is awake, you're drinking, then you go and read Muscle68's post and get all thoughtful

I have discovered Amazon.com.

I just purchased a book that Neil Gaiman recommended, The Child That Books Built : A Life in Reading [Paperback] by
Spufford, Francis. No wonder that boy had nothing to do but read; with a name like Francis Spufford.

That semi-colon reminds me that I need to take some more English courses. I have serious technical problems with writing.

Like when I start writing an event that happened in the past, and it's all in past tense, but then I get excited about it and start writing in present tense like it's happening right now.

Then Emma signs off Instant Messenger and you're unexcusably an alcoholic, drinking alone, doing laundry, and writing.

Life is so hard.

Then Lauren H. comes back online after being "away" and you're demoted from alcoholic to back to just being drunk.

Then she's gone again. Her last IM said, "goodnight puppet".

"I'll show you puppet!" I thought, and then proceeded to do The Robot. (It works, since a robot is really just a puppet with very elaborate strings.)

By the way, the unpuncuated first line at the very beginning is my notes. The lesson here is that sometimes things don't go as planned.

But yes, Muscle68's post: Questioning purpose again, and life in general. But now I know what my purpose is.

I have to get the practically full beer keg in my backyard into the freezer somehow.

As if I didn't already have enough to do at 3 am on a Sunday night.

But I'd like to think that I'm doing it for the children.

Eh...I'll go now.

UPDATE:

I have done it.

There was much sorting of ice, Hot Pockets, and frozen waffles, and some shelving, but I managed to clear the bottom half of the big freezer we have in our house. (It's a bit bigger than a large stand-up fridge.) I also had to move some frozen sushi. I didn't think you could freeze sushi. I still don't think you can freeze sushi.

Then I grabbed the 120 pound keg by the handles and waddled it all the way from the backyard to the freezer.

How do I know it's 120 pounds, you ask?

Well, I weighed it.

(My laundry still isn't dry.)

But regardless of how much it weighed, it fit perfectly into the little nook I had made for it.

I am proud of myself, the keg, and the people that designed the freezer.

But my triumph is bittersweet. I am purposeless once again.

But I know it won't last.

After all, someone has to return the tap.