There's never a track ball around when you need one.

I decided I had earned a lazy weekend.  (I spent most of Friday afternoon shoveling dirt, including staying 1.5 hours late.)  Still, on Saturday morning, I had errands to run (drop off a package at the post office, deposit a check at the bank, and I did have that coupon for a free breakfast at IHOP).  After that, though, I stayed in.

On Sunday, I made a conscious effort to be lazy.  I kept my pajamas on and didn't make my bed.  (I did wash myself and shave, though.)  I played computer games.  Then, to thwart my efforts, Thing One invited me to go with her to one of the ultra-organic stores.  (All right, I can see starting a new diet, but why not buy most of those foods at a typical, and less expensive, market?)  I recognized that I must have been in a bad mood, so I didn't rant about the customers (including the great unwashed and the yuppies), even though some of them let their kids run around unsupervised to get in the way and to eat as many free samples as they could get away with.  When I got back home, I played computer games and read the rest of the day away.  (I didn't put my jammies back on; the spell was ruined.)

Before going to bed, I noticed a centipede on my bedroom wall, above my headboard.  I didn't try to kill it, since I didn't think it would hurt me, but mostly because I didn't want to risk getting a greasy spot on the wall.  (I tried not to think of it crawling into my mouth while I was asleep.)  After I read a while more, I saw that it had disappeared.

This morning, a centipede was on my bathroom wall.  It disappeared while I was putting on my contact lenses.  (It wasn't behind the towel or the shower curtain.  Maybe it hid behind the picture.)  I wondered if it was the same one as last night, or if I am being invaded by centipedes.

Naturally, this song came into my head.