Don’t tell me what to do.

This blog was started b/c of a challenge at work. Cool. I like challenges.

Now, though, it gets to the end of the day and I really don’t want to write.  Defensively I say to myself, “I’m busy living” or “why write when I’m acutally enjoying all the minutes of the day?”

Then sometimes I react in that childish way that is ever-so-hard to shake:  Don’t you dare tell me what the fuck to do.  Really. Not that anyone is telling me to blog, but the idea that I’m supposed to write everyday seems a bit annoying. A very childish reaction to a little blog challenge.  Stupid me.

Ok, enough of that.  Today I’m going home and I’ll drink a homemade IPA on my porch with a friend. That’s a good afternoon.

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