I should write about how my car broke down on Sunday leaving us stranded in a gas station for three hours and how it’s still not fixed, and still sitting in that gas station 250 miles away.
Or maybe I should write about how school started this week and how my class is going to be difficult but fun.
Or how about I recap my efforts to do research for my thesis, and all that I read just tells me how much more I should probably read before I actually do much more writing.
Or I should write about my adorable niece and how cute she is now that she’s 7 weeks old, posting pictures to prove my point.
Or maybe I could talk about the first BYU home football game tomorrow and how excited I am for football season.
But all I really want to do is surf the internet, reading meaningless drivel or playing stupid games.
Sometimes, I hate myself.
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