Today seems to be a universally low energy kind of day. Even the political swipes seem lethargic and half-hearted. I’m feeling it kind of keenly… it’s bound to happen in Oregon when you give people sunlight and then take it away again. It’s a comfortable kind of slump though, not bad natured.
“Hello again, gray sky… it’s been awhile. Was there some sort of seraphim coup up there, or just a little reprieve for the overtaxed rainclouds? Anyway, welcome home. There’s some cats basking on the deck that should be fairly miserable to see you.”
So since Wednesday is hump day…
In an effort to cheer myself up enough to put some pants on, I thought I’d translate the low energy effects onto the sexual peak of the week.
(It didn’t work out very good though.)
(Mediocre sex isn’t that cheerful a prospect, and didn’t prove particularly energizing.)
It isn’t a terrible prospect, mind you. It’s just… with the accompanying mess and possible post-coital awkwardness, one has to weigh the merits of a lethargic hump against the merits of, say, a nice sandwich or a warm bath. It’s kind of a toss up. And while you can get diseases from certain kinds of sandwich, it’s very difficult to contract mono from a warm bath.
I don’t really care enough about half-a-hump day to even explore the pros and cons here. Apathy of this scope should be useful to governmental agencies. They could bottle it and keep a nice, placid citizenry in place. It would be like a nation of potheads without the burning urine smell. It could be like…
Oh, who cares.