So it’s tax day. Take the day off from the job that has no work. Take the day off from the shitshow that keeps you alive. Do your fucking taxes.
Before that, crash at 10 on the couch.
Oh fuck, is it time to get up?
Nah, it’s just midnight. Go to bed.
Now it’s 4:20.
Tommy Chong: Duuuude, you said 4:20.
Mr. Hand: Is everybody on drugs?
Me: Oh fuck, is it time to get up?
Nah, go back to sleep.
6:30. It’s time to go to work.
Work: No, it isn’t. DIDN’T YOU READ?
Me: Well fuck you then, ephemeral work succubus. I’ll just go back to sleep!
Judge: Where are you, counselor?
Client: Where are you, counselor?
Bar Ethics Committee: *salivates* Fresh meat.
Screw this. I would rather be awake doing taxes.