The land of make-believe will always keep me from waking up early to "Get Stuff Done." Why would I close the door to dreams when I don't have a gun pointed to my head? This morning I went to a party in a huge basement covered in tin foil, that had six bands on six stages & they would take turns playing. I hung out with my family in Loomis, and my brother Eames talked in a Gabriel Byrne accent the whole time. I kissed my boyfriend in Vegas (not like a wedding chapel, haha, just a slot machine bank).
How is that less important that separating my laundry so that on sunday I can paint instead of doing laundry?? Dreaming is the stuff of painting! I'm thinking of never doing laundry again. Sending it out instead. I'm not even kidding. I'm going to check prices today. Two months of avoidance is enough. I'm taking control of my life by Sleeping In and Paying People to Do Things For Me.
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