Will You Stop Talking to Me

I hate my brain. Some time ago, I wrote up a list of special projects to do around the house. One of these was to sand and repaint the iron porch railing - once it got cooler.

Now my brain is nagging at me. It's cooler. Did you notice that it's cooler? Pert near to pleasantly cool. Don't you need to go get some iron porch railing paint? Huh? Dontcha? Huh?

My ego is falling down on it's job to moderate my id's desire to sit on it's fat butt and read tweets and my super-ego's insistence that I actually do the things I've told it I would do.

The boyz say: This is why it is good to be a cat: all id.