I don’t know what the hell I’m saying on here half the time, and today is yet another example of my brain weaving through tunnels and over bridges on auto pilot without a GPS system. And, just so you know…I’m a murderer.

Oh, you want me to elaborate? Silly rabbit…

It’s true, I’m afraid. Last night I reached the threshold of laziness. I realize, of course, that everyone has the potential to be lazy, but I wonder sometimes if I don’t take that potential and squeeze it like a stress ball…kind of like hugging someone until they pass out.

Anyway, I walked into my apartment at 10pm and took a swift look around the place. Clean laundry, still in a wrinkled pile, sat on a chair…dirty dishes piled next to the sink were practically begging to bathe in some soap FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS CLEAN AND GOOD! My bedroom floor was covered in piles of dirty/clean/folded/unfolded clothes that may or may not presently fit me and the idea of sorting through them made me want to eat a sheet cake, and let’s face it…that’s just counter productive.

So amidst all of this disorganization staring me in the face, Kibbles was swimming around his filthy fish bowl with his fishy eye pleading with me to clean his home because how on earth can a fish survive in such conditions?! And I didn’t have the energy. And I didn’t want to. And I know you know what I’m going to tell you…

I flushed him.

I’m so ashamed.