Pun About The Handicapped

I hate venetian blinds. It takes me literally about half-an-hour to pull them down, if I succeed at it at all. For some reason they're set up in such a way that unless the string is pulled at a specific angle, they will not come down at all. Or, in variation, simply to mock me they also tend to come down at a crawling speed, about 1 centimeter per pull. I tug at that god damn string for hours to try to get the shade down, and by then I'm too tired and worn out to remember why I gave a fuck in the first place. Every one else seems to be able to do this. I'll ask someone else to pull down the blinds for me, and in one fell swoop it'll come down like a heroin addict. That is definitly going to be me in hell: Me attempting to pull down a venetian blind in a tiny enclosed room that is overly lit with buzzing florescent lights and Kenny G playing softly on a loop in the background.

Now why is my hatred for venetian blinds a point of interest? It's not. Yet somehow this blog has seemed to turn into "Jack's place to go when he wants to bitch about stupid shit". This makes me come off as a very negative guy. I'm typically not a negative guy at all. These writings may just make it seem that way because I want to complain about things in an environment that will only annoy those who feel the need to read them.

I think my trouble with sleeping as of late has been due to the blinds. Rather than get pissed off at trying to pull them down and end up unable to fall asleep do to my extreme expenditure of energy, I'll just leave them up and try to sleep anyway. Then I get that thing where you lay in bed for hours with all the symptoms of sleeping without the actual sleep. That is the worst feeling ever. When you finally do fall asleep, it happens so subtly that you don't notice and it feels like you didn't sleep at all. Plus you waste so much time just sitting in bed, expecting to fall asleep at any moment. Typically it takes me two or three hours to actually fall asleep once I've gotten in bed and closed my eyes. Then I wake up unsatisfied and my back hurts. Arrgh.

I wish I had something to say that wasn't bitching so I could prove my point about how I don't actually bitch all the time. Maybe I do and I'm just lying to myself. Whatever.