I absolutely must get some sleep or I will be absolutely useless tomorrow at work. I'm putting in an extra day this week and one next week to cut the length of my sentence by one week. As s stands, I WILL be useless, but the trick is having everyone else avoid knowing how useless I really am. The secret is not to fall asleep mid-sentence while one of my job superiors is instructing me. Will I be able to pull it off? Time will tell.
Of course the person who runs this lab has to be someone who lives across the street from my Uncle Steve. I couldn't be ridiculously dysfunctional due to lack of sleep without the guy wandering across the street to tell My Uncle Steve. Uncle Steve is a whole lot newer to the concept of parenting as are my own parents (his older child is only nine), and, as such, has not yet developed the more laid-back and "don't sweat the small stuff" approach that my parents started to develop after I was left in the smoky house and thoroughly developed after the school restroom assault. Hence, if the owner of the lab came over and mentioned that I was terribly sleepy at work, Uncle Steve would keep both me and The Pope here all week so we could go to bed early. That would be a great way to part with a week of my summer vacation lickety-split.
So I need to go to sleep. My dad once told me to imagine I was in a Mormon church and Mitt Romney was either giving a talk (their equivalent to a sermon) or a lesson and it was having natural soporific effect on me. My eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. It works better when my dad tell the story and imitates Mitt Romney speaking about how important it is to do a good job when scrubbing the church toilets, or how abortion is wrong, especially if one is running for Governor of Massachusetts, but really not THAT wrong, unless one is now running for president. or how it's against or religion,
The Lunesta speech isn't complete unless my dad interjects Ann Romney's comments about having personally known poverty in her lifetime. Hell, maybe she really did know a poor person or two; she herself wasn't poor, but that doesn't mean the almost literally starving students around her weren't poor and she didn't know poverty; knowing poverty and being poor are two different thing, but they're not THAT much different, and just because one doesn't work to finance a university education but instead sells stock to pay for everything doesn't move the person or couple THAT far from the poverty level. Furthermore, paying for the care and feeding of dressage horses, which have typically grown accustomed to only the very best of everything, alone would make college students poor souls. YOU PEOPLE got it all wrong; the Romneys were indeed poor, or at least poor in spirit. What does St. Matthew say about "Blessed are the poor in spirit. For theirs is the Kingdom of God" ? One can own the whole damned Kingdom of God and still be poor for taxable intents and purposes. How in hell does one go about tabulating the property value of Kingdom of God ? I'd venture a guess the IRS hasn't a clue, nor do the local jurisdictions, except maybe the Commonwealth of Virginia, which would tax the hell out of the Kingdom of God on principle alone just as it does out of poor Navy men for owning used cars even two years after they leave the Commonwealth of Virginia and return home and register their cars there. Once a Virginian, always a Virginian.
This isn't working without my dad here to deliver the speech. I'll just have to imagine Mitt and Ann jumping over fences in their garmies. goodnight all, and pray that I don't get fired tomorrow.