I’m Sorry. I Didn’t Hear All the Great Things You’re Doing With Your Life.


October 16, 2021 by sandwichcontrol

I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.

The word of the day is: Sniffle.

[ snif-uhl ]
verb (used without object), snif·fled, snif·fling.
to sniff repeatedly, as from a head cold or in repressing tears:
She sniffled woefully.
an act or sound of sniffling.
(the) sniffles, a condition, as a cold, marked by sniffling:
This draft is giving me the sniffles.

Thankfully I’m not sick.

I just play one on television.

I have a sneaking suspicion that HayHay has caught something though.

Let cold and flu season commence!

So I just reread that last line of the definition of sniffles.

And it took me a few reads through to realize that the “draft” they are referring to is of the moving air variety and not in the realm of essays or term papers.


It’s been a long week.

That went by really quickly.

It’s like when you’re used to having lunch at a certain time and then you swap with someone at work and end up going an hour later.

The afternoon feels way shorter.

It’s like that, but with stress instead of food.


We’ve been going nonstop for weeks now.

I need a vacation.

The kind where you don’t do anything except nap in different places and positions.

A nap under an umbrella on a beach.

A nap in a freezing cold hotel room under a pile of fluffy blankets.

A nap in a hammock.

A nap on an airplane.

A nap outside the gate where you board the plane.

A nap in the wheelchair you’re in so they can shuttle you around because you’re napping.

Really the only times you’re awake are when you’re eating, using the restroom, showering, and taking a melatonin/Ambien cocktail to resume the napping.

I think this scenario calls for the wearing of a sandwich board, made of some super comfy material, that reads “Do Not Disturb”.

Like a wearable version of the placards you hang on doorknobs.

I kinda feel like we are one step away from being putting into a medically induced coma for about a week.

In that case, please wait until I’m knocked out to insert my catheter.

I could probably go on a liquid only diet for a week or so to clear my bowels out so no one has to change my diapers while I’m checked out.

Now I’m just talking outta my ass, but they can feed me through an IV right?

Or would there have to be tube rammed down my gullet?

Also, if I can be fed through an IV, why the fuck am I still eating food the traditional way?

Just gimme my bioport implant already.

I would never have to listen to myself chew EVER AGAIN.

This fantasy world keeps getting better and better.

Too bad the closest I’ll get to any of that is when I drink the leftover bottle of SOYLENT that someone left unopened in the fridge.

Also, why the fuck did I start getting ads for different kinds of playing cards?

Like there’s a deck of playing cards for everything now.

With the entire deck themed around whatever.

Not just a picture on the picture on the back of the card.

Super random.

Our AI overlord must’ve caught wind that my hobo deck is coming along nicely.

All the futbol matches for today got postponed due to the fields being a swamp.

All I have left on the books for today is a wedding this evening.

Maybe I can get a for real nap in.

See ya’ tomorrow.

More soon. ~SC


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