Instead of going for a morning run, you dedicate yourself full-time to destroying all 300 levels of Candy Crush. Instead of masturbating, you begin to do terrible things to your dog with a fork. And instead of going to work, you start to do errands, chores around the house, and watching movies about people eating other people. And developing some nasty chaffing, you know, down there. And pretty soon, you start to forget about work.
Yesterday I cleaned my daughter's room. Admit it ladies, this gets you a little hot, doesn't it?
As we hit Day Whatever of the furlough, I'm pining less and less for the accomplishments of work and wondering more and more whether a little bit of aloe vera is enough to power me through my 12th viewing of Zombie Strippers.
I'm enjoying getting up at 7am instead of 5.
I've made Candy Crush my bitch.
And I have watched every single movie on FearNet on demand.
And now that it looks like that not only will Congress approve backpay for federal workers, but will also pay us during the lay-off, I'm dug in even more. Which I suppose is another unintended consequence of this whole fiasco--when I do have to go back to work, just how productive do you think I'm going to be? The last time I checked, spirited bouts of self-pleasure are not welcome in our conference rooms. That's only on the congressional floor.
Above: Ted Cruz reads Dr. Seuss to congress. Not pictured: this man is not wearing pants.