I'm sure, when you are reading this in the morning, you will be exhausted. You will slap annoyingly at the alarm clock. (Which, by the way, is uncalled for. It's just doing its job.) You will literally roll out of bed. You will be so out of it that you'll wind up putting your contact lenses in the wrong eyes and then wonder why you have a migraine by lunch. The reason I am writing to you is because I (Past You) am up at 3 AM. Wondering why? It's because of you. You lazy, unmotivated, veg-all-day jerk face. You refuse to be productive during normal, practical, easy-to-use daytime hours. Instead, you lounge on the couch, watching a marathon of Rugby 7 matches, a sport you don't understand in the slightest. (Side note: Ladies. You HAVE to check out Rugby 7. Trust me. A sporting event with a running time of fifteen minutes and athletic physiques that will make you feel incredibly confident in your relative thigh size? You're welcome.) Then, when most people are turning off porch lights and heading to bed ... you get some inexplicable, impractical rush of energy to be productive.
And produce you do.
At 8 PM, you decided to throw in a load of laundry.
While you're down in the basement stuffing the washing machine, you spy your painting supplies. Oh yeah, you had been meaning to put a few extra coats of paint that trim in the dining room. Why not start now?
Why not give it three coats?
In between drying time and laundry cycles, you have to do something to occupy your time, right?
Why not try to figure out why your printer hasn't been working? Sure, you'll give it a whirl!
Why not print out some pictures, now that your printer has been trouble-shot into submission? Don't mind if you do!
You know, you've been meaning to redo some of the frames you have in your front room. How about an art project or two?
How about typing up a blog post about all of this? Since, you know, you can't seem to write anything during the FIVE HOURS you avoided writing like it was the plague.
In summation: when the sun is out, the only thing your capable of producing is a butt-cheek impression on the sofa cushions. But, sun's down .... okay, I was going for a whole play on the "sun's out, guns out" cliche, I can't think of a clever rhyme to "down" that indicates accomplishing a crapload of stuff. And I blame you. Because you're the one who kept me up this late.
So the next time you are kicked back on the couch, flipping through your seventeen DVR'd episodes of The Big Bang Theory (Seriously, why are you even still taping those? You've seen all of them. ALL. Of. Them.) please consider emptying the dishwasher instead. It will take you five minutes. And will earn you three hours of sleep.
(But the art project did turn out pretty nice. At least, to my bleary 3AM eyes. We'll see what it looks like once I get a few hours of shut-eye and my standards improve.)
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