Letters to Myself

And so my mandatory vacation begins. Oh, pitiful me!

The ironic thing is, I actually don't have any practice anymore at lounging around the house. I sit still for five minutes, and I find myself wanting to do something else. It's so sad. Once I was the laziest wastrel that ever wasted laze. Now I'm a role model. Bah. Oh well, I'll figure something out.

Here, a YouTube vid recommended by my father:

So when Ian comes to me and says, "Dad, I want to be a drummer," I can say, "Fine. Here's ten bucks. Go buy a pumpkin."