The couch

It is hard to get off the couch when the rest of the room promises you nothing but responsibilities. If I move, I'll have to pay those bills. If I rise from my stupor, I'll have to get ahold of that guy who's got my van. It's hot in here anyway. If I wake up, I'll have to fight the urge to eat all those oreos.

I don't want to go to work anymore. I don't work much anyway but there's something about having to shut your mind off entirely for 12 hours at a time while I do the city tour that is frightening...and painful. Sure, I could be making money by being extremely happy to see everyone who gets on my bus, but I'm not dishonest with myself in this regard. I wish everyday was one of those days when the passengers all forget to show up but we stay out for twelve hours collecting a paycheck.

I'm hoping that I get a job as a locksmith. I have no experience but the place is by my house and they say they'll train me. There. I'll learn a new school.

Then I won't mind getting off the couch.