My Life as a Morning-After Breakfast

You know how when you stay up all night – whether it’s because your town has a KFC buffet and you thought it’d be a good idea to challenge an old college buddy to a pot pie eating contest or because you filled up the “Mug-O-Rita” cup with coffee just as Black Friday started – and the next day you feel like absolute crap? So then you sit on the couch watching-but-not-watching penguin videos on your phone while watching-but-not-watching The Walking Dead (which, by the way, I’m convinced is the only way people watch that show)? And then you try to find an all-day breakfast place because the only thing that sounds really good is fried bread and the worst parts of a pig?

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These ladies will be eating waffles with butter, syrup, fake whipped cream, and fake strawberry sauce tomorrow.  They’re also going to have a hard time looking each other in the eye.

That’s kind of what it’s been like for me for a month or two.

I’ve spent the better part of two years designing and building my current house (and selling my old one). I don’t mean that I found a design online and then went on Craig’s List to find a “competent builder” (which, I heard from a gay friend of mine, means “three-way with a pre-op transsexual”), I mean I spent every day looking for the best everything, realizing I couldn’t afford that, and then backing off to a realistic level. I then spent every day closing my old house. I then spent every day building my new one.

That’s a bit of a stretch. By “every day” I mean more like “a little more than six days a week” (for instance, I only did half a day on July 4th while the rest of the family went to a pool party).

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And you thought it was creepy when people were waiting for Natalie Portman to turn of age.

So it feels like I’ve been constantly working. Once we moved in, once all the little stuff was done – installing toilet paper rollers, changing to dimmable lights in certain places, fixing furniture that was damaged in transit, finding a priest to exorcise the poltergeist, changing my address on credit card statements and my Dora and Friends magazines (she’ll be 18 soon; wink wink), installing the washer and dryer – I was exhausted. I’ve spent the last two months like you spend the day after an all-nighter:

 

I watched all of Brisco County Jr. I watched all of Jessica Jones. I watched all of 30 Rock. I read a couple of books. I read a couple of comic books. I watched some movies at the theater. I played and beat Super Mario Bros., Super Mario 2, Super Mario 3, Super Mario World, Super Mario 64, Super Mario Sunshine, Super Mario Galaxy, and Super Mario Galaxy 2. Basically, I’ve done nothing. Or rather, I’ve accomplished nothing.

But I think I’m about done. I’m almost full of pancakes and Egg McMuffins. Just based on the number of posts I’ve made over the last couple weeks, I think I’m about ready to start accomplishing something again.

So the question is, what should I accomplish? Do I finish my basement? Do I add storage to the garage? Do I put up art around the house and force my kids clean their rooms everyday and make my own granola and experiment with coffee?

Do I draw?

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The problem is: here’s my “art studio”

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