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Because if we’re all Scared collectively, we’re less Scared individually.
Spending an entire day of drinking at a ranch in central Texas can change a man. And I don’t mean in the emotional “I found the meaning of life” sense. I mean that in the “my waist feels two inches larger than it did when I arrived on said ranch” way.
There’s a lesson to be learned about day-drinking two months before your thirtieth birthday: don’t do it. It doesn’t matter how much water you mix in (none), whether or not you stick to one type of alcohol (I didn’t), or whether you get a full night’s rest (I watched the sunrise with the chickens). Day-drinking feels like a good idea. It seems like the best possible option for making something of your Saturday. It should reset your fun-meter and get you ready for a week of work.
What To Wear
I stole a faded red long sleeved Whistler, Canada tee-shirt from my girlfriend that I plan on wearing until I get cold sweats at 2 a.m. and rip it off my bloated body. This shirt was previously used as a part of the sorority tradition of lampshading, which is simply the act of wearing a large tee-shirt over one’s Nike shorts. Therefore, it fits me.
In a moment that I’ll surely regret when I check my bank account on Tuesday, I decided to temporarily halt my Scaries with retail therapy in the form of ‘Sunday Shorts’ by Outdoor Voices. As the world’s foremost authority on Sunday Scaries, it seemed only natural that I own a pair. And they have an elastic waistband which ensures I’ll wear them tomorrow to work as well.
What To Watch
Yes, the Cardinals are playing the Cardinals. But that won’t be on the big screen. Yes, The Big Chill is playing on the generically named Movies channel, but that’s getting DVR’d. And yes, there’s another marathon of Bar Rescue on Spike, but even those are getting old.
What’s on the big screen tonight while I stream Sunday Night Football and the beautiful voice of Cris Collinsworth? Season Three of Black Mirror on Netflix, the most Scaries-inducing show that’s ever existed. There’s no part of me that feels like this is a good idea, but if I had any control over the self-sabotage that I inflict on myself, I wouldn’t have crippling anxiety in the first place.
In The Headphones
There comes a point in the night where there’s nothing left on television to watch, the lights go down, and you’re faced with two options: go to sleep with the sound of your own thoughts screaming at you or fall asleep to music. This week’s music? Bob Weir’s first studio album in 11 years, Blue Mountain. Yes, the guy from The Grateful Dead. Of course, it’s a heady choice. And duh, I’ll probably accidentally listen to the entire album before falling asleep with my thoughts yelling at me.
The lamp on my desk is illuminating that side of The Panic Room just enough that I don’t need any further lights on. It’s just me, the television, that lamp, and my empty eyes. On the adjacent corner rests a new fan that’s blowing on low directly to my side of the bed. And to my direct left sits a country club Tervis of ice water (with no lemon because I was too lazy to go to the store) and a scented candle that’s on its last legs. I’d provide the make of the candle but that would simply lead to someone asking, “You spent how much on a scented candle?”
And there, on top of the sheets, I will sit underneath a plush red blanket ranking other people’s Panic Rooms from my Sunday Scaries Twitter account. Because like I said, if we’re all Scared collectively, we’re less Scared individually. .