I’m pretty sure the gods of telephone solitaire were fucking with me this morning. I imagine their conversation going something like this:
God 1: ah jeez she’s playing solitaire in bed again
God 2: why doesn’t she get up already and accomplish one of those things she keep saying she’s going to accomplish?
God 1: because she thinks about those things before she’s really awake…then she forgets
God 2: well, shit.
God 1: let’s just give her a bunch of crappy games in a row, maybe she’ll give up
*waits through three crappy games*
God 2: oh god, she’s doing that thing where she wants to quit but can’t let herself until she wins just one more
God 1: Fuuuuuuuuuck
God 2: Hold on I‘ve got an idea… “HEY GOD OF DOGS CAN YOU SEND THAT MUTT IN TO LAY RIGHT ON TOP OF HER BLADDER FOR A WHILE?!”
*waits through two more crappy games*
God 2: Christ on Ice, this is taking forever. Just give her a good game so she can get the hell out of bed. That list of goals isn’t going to write and then ignore itself, amiright? *laughs*
God 1: Yeah, you speak the Truth homeslice. For real.
*I win a game and finally get out of bed*