Where was I?
Oh yeah. I'd sat on the couch and gotten online and started playing Assassin's Creed II because I need to get those last few trophies, when the power went off like God was telling me that I needed to get off my lazy bum and take that deposit slip to the bank and get coin-rolly-paper-things so I could actually deposit my meager collection of change and pretend I have money even though it's only a measly $30 and that doesn't really pay for as much as I'd thought it would when I was seven and could only dream of amassing such a large amount of money and what I could buy with it, like a horse and a dinosaur and a trip to Pompeii to see the weird plaster-people because that sounded really cool, and probably I could squeeze out enough money to buy a spaceship with the leftovers, or if I didn't buy any ice cream from the ice cream truck that still came around then, even though he was starting to drop us off his rounds cause the only kids in my neighborhood were myself, my sister, and my next-door neighbor with whom I was best buds but now I'm not even sure I would recognize him in the grocery store. (I know I have a tendency to write ridiculously long, possibly run-on sentences, but that was a 211 word sentence and I'm a little proud of that even though I probably shouldn't be.)
At any rate, I took God's advice and drove to the bank, check and deposit slip in hand, and deposited the check to my sister's account (who, it seems, needs to inform them of her address change before they start charging her for returned mail.) Unfortunately, the bank has decided to eschew the manual wrapping of coins and no longer has little coin-rolly-paper-things and I have to use a machine now, which I guess means that one of my secret enjoyments has been taken away from me and I feel that I didn't get enough coin-rolling in this life, and I'll be telling my grandkids that in my day we didn't have these fancy coin-rolling machines and that we had to roll them by hand, and by God did we roll those coins like there was no tomorrow and we probably sometimes didn't count right and a roll that was supposed to have 40 quarters only had 39, but that's okay because unintentional unexpected windfalls are God's way of saying you are loved (or that you'd better return that person's wallet and this is really a test to see if you're worthy of Heaven because God is sneaky that way and that's why people are always on edge when they find wallets (unless they're bad people and just keep it, that is; I don't think they're on edge about anything.)) I was kinda annoyed that I have to take my coins to the bank now (didn't I have to do that anyway?) and it's a little frustrating.
Anyway, I was sitting on the couch and trying not to move after rabidly defending the awesomeness of jeans on an old blog post of Allie's (of which most of the reasons include bugs and I never noticed that apparently is approximately a third of the reason I wear jeans and not just because I like to wear jeans.) because it's kinda really hot since my parents refuse to turn on the air conditioning until I can literally prove that my blood is boiling and not before.
Nobody was talking to me online, and after a few hours of mostly talking to myself, I resigned myself to spending today alone in the hot house contemplating the exact amount of heat that would be produced by propelling myself to the kitchen to get something to eat and whether the energy gained by eating would really be worth the trouble and unnecessary production of heat by my muscles. Then I remembered that we have ice cream in the freezer and that producing a little extra heat was totally worth it for a Coke float. So, I dug out a glass and as the first scoop of ice cream was falling in, beyond the point of my stopping it, I realized that I'd forgotten to check that the glass did not have any current or previous unsavory occupants; i.e., roach appendages or dead (or living) silverfish. I dropped two more scoops in the glass and tried my best to ignore my oversight and pray to whoever might be listening that I was not, in fact, about to unwillingly ingest insects of any sort. I grabbed a glass-bottle Coke and spent a few moments debating whether that one 8oz Coke would be enough to cover three scoops of ice cream and started to worry that I'd made a grievous mistake. Then I contemplated how much trouble I'd be in for drinking mom's glass-bottle Cokes in the first place, especially since I'd already had one today and was hoping she wouldn't notice, but I really doubted she wouldn't notice two conspicuously empty glass Coke bottles in the recycle bin. Then I considered whether I really wanted a Coke float in the first place, since I'm far more enamored of root beer floats, but there was no root beer in the fridge, and would it really be that weird if I just ate ice cream out of a glass instead of a bowl like normal people? At that point, I was struck by an epiphany--the garage fridge might present me with A&;W (if dad hadn't drunk it all, even though he always says (as he's drinking one) that root beer is too sweet and he doesn't like it (which happens with alarming regularity.)) To my joyous surprise, the garage fridge did, in fact, have not one, but several cans of A&W and I could commence making the best root beer float ever.
It occurs to me (and also to Chris, who claims that a root beer float is NOT dinner and I should eat real food,) that just because I'm alone and when I was younger I always said that when I was an adult I could eat whatever I wanted for dinner, that even though I'm now an adult and can technically eat whatever I want for dinner, root beer floats are satisfying and delicious but hardly classified as nutritious by any means, and I really should not be forgoing meals for tasty ice cream and soda treats. But then I ignore my responsible side and Chris is trying to get me to eat something that might be classified as "real food" if your description is rather lenient and includes greasy fried foods with a high fat content, and instead enjoy my delicious root beer float (which, thankfully, does not have a bug in it, or if it did I already accidentally ate it without noticing, which is probably just as well.)
Or maybe I'll just spam the end with AT-AT pictures.
