I'm writing this while waiting for a Will Ferell movie to download on my computer. I'm having a Bed Day. After two back to back Variety Shows with 106 kids in 51 acts, and misbehaving parents, and a gym so over crowded and unruly that it was like the Stones at Altamont, only with little kids singing Myley Cyrus, I deserve to stay in bed for a day.
Some people would hate staying in bed all day. Like my mom. She would go completely nuts and feel awful about herself, and probably have to see a therapist about it, even though she doesn't believe in therapy because its for crazy people.
I, on the other hand, love it. The only thing that would make it better today is if I had cable in this room and could watch HGTV. Instead I've finished Mindy Kaling's book, taken two cat naps, eaten a small bag of kettle corn (the lite kind, totally unsatisfying) and now I'm going to watch a movie which I thought was a comedy, but the iTunes reviews assure me it is not.
Here's a thing about me that is totally like my mom: When I am reading, don't talk to me. I'm reading. I'm having silent reading time. But when I'm done reading, its talking time. It doesn't matter if you're still reading, even if you are at the climactic moment of your book, or if you're asleep, or if you are simply not interested in talking to me.
Rob is here with me, and he is also reading. Or he was reading, before I put the kibosh on that. He told me he was going to ignore me, so I stared at the side of his head as hard as I could, and, though he was successful in ignoring me, I started cracking myself up. He's now playing on his iPhone, a much more easily interruptable activity.
I would really like a sandwich.