So, you've had a long day at work on a saturday, observing adjunct teaching, grading quizzes, and grading papers...in between moments of eye-closing, near-dozing, that is, 'cause your day started at 5:30 am.
You finally decide at 5 pm that you've had enough, you can't see straight any longer. You'll take the rest of the papers home (ten left to grade), and the text book to write the quiz for one of your monday classes.
You'll get to marble hill about 6-ish and stop at target for trouser socks, a serious necessity as most of yours have runs in them.
And then you'll also pick up this:
And this, as if you need to be starting a 4-book series, but you do love a good vampire novel:
And your guilty pleasure:
It's not like you'll have time to read either of the books till the semester is over, but you should find time for the guilty pleasure this weekend.
Don't worry, you'll remember when you get home that you forgot the second item you went for -- the mucinex-d, which is the only thing helping you sleep at night since the congestion from that damned flu of a couple of weeks ago took up permanent residence in your sinuses and chest.
You might, at that point, be tempted to sit down to dinner at the local applebee's, rather than doing fast food. Just because it would be nice to sit, read your guilty pleasure, and be waited on.
Don't do it. I highly recommend you just walk on to the train station. 'Cause applebees will not be happy giving a table to a single at the beginning of dinner rush on a saturday night. They will suggest you sit at the bar, and you will say sure, no problem. Then you'll walk to the bar, realize it really is a bar with no room for dishes so you can't eat there, you'll stand there for a moment wondering how your life got so fuckingly, pathetically, lonely, and you'll walk back out again.
Then you'll realize you're in the midst of a fairly major pity party, you've only invited yourself to the party, and the party doesn't look like it'll end anytime soon.
You'll manage to catch the train though, and not have to wait for the next one. Of course, you'll manage to pick the car with the wild little kids and the equally loud parents, and you'll begin to feel something akin to rage begin to trickle from the depths of you out toward the surface. You'll even put this on your Zen to keep you calm and quiet:
Then you'll notice the guy across the aisle, taking a bouquet of incredibly gorgeous flowers and a bottle of wine home to someone, and you'll wonder when you'll get your turn to have someone special bring something sweet home to you. Oh, yeah. The party's not over yet...in fact, it seems to be escalating.
It's your stop, and you step off the train and head for the walk home -- up a two-block, very steep hill. As you walk, you notice all the commuters who have someone to pick them up. Doh, yeah...party's still on inside your head.
You get home, throw a frozen burger patty on the grill, shred a potato into hashbrowns, chow down...and it doesn't come close to hitting the spot the way high-fat fast food does. And then you'll remember that you didn't get chocolate at target 'cause you were anticipating dinner at applebees. So, your saturday evening will be spent grading papers, chocolate-less.
The pity party's on now. In a major way. But...relax, don't do it (and yeah...it's the banned version).