So this just randomly popped into my head last night:
During weekdays it's like you're riding around the block of your neighborhood... shotgun in a convertible sports car... with a crazy maniac driving. Swerving all over the place, stopping and starting randomly...etc. On the weekend, your crazy chauffeur stops at your house for a quick break. While you're inside, trying desperately to calm down, and get as much rest as fast as possible, he's still in the car. Reving the engine, blaring music, and occasionally honking the horn. Once your time's up, you're back out there for another go-around.
*is rather proud of herself for accidentally thinking of such a perfect analogy*
--Sarah
Timothy's Twelfth Month!
5 years ago
3 random thoughts:
Wow, that's good.
Hey, yeah...it is. No wonder I tried to stay in bed for as long as possible this morning!
Wow! i couldn't have said it better myself:) but sometimes i think the driver forgets to let me out of the car when he passes my house....
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