It’s Monday again, time to slither down the greasy pipe (as they say). All this past week I’ve been about to write, just after I slam this last damping coil into place, defusing the ticking bomb at the last moment, as soon as I send this letter, dimension that array, depress the gamma on the final picture, save the world one final time. And, oh yes, right after I inexplicably watch Resident Evil, which actually isn’t nearly as bad as I remember.
It’s hard to convince myself that I haven’t got any time when I’ve got time to watch Resident Evil. All a matter of priorities, I suppose. It’s a Guy Thing.
You know what the problem is here? The problem is that extra hour. They owe me that extra hour. I want my extra hour back. And no, next October is not going to be soon enough. Spring forward, my butt.