In my home, downstairs alone, we have no fewer than 3 million lamps. On any given night approximately 2 million are on. Before retiring to bed, my parents turn off approximately zero of them. I don't realize it until it's one o clock in the morning and my eyes are burning from staring at a computer screen, and my limbs are too tired to even make it upstairs practically, and my fingers are all broken from typing endlessly, and the only thing I want to do is fall into my bed and pass out.
So I shut the lap top, stand up (in a quasi Quasimodo (see what I did there) fashion) and hobble towards the stairs with squinty eyes and limp fingers. Then I start to look around and that panicky movie music starts to play where there are quick shots to scary things and it's like BUM.... BUM.BUM.BUM. And all I see around me are the 2 million lamps still lit and my dreams of crawling upstairs like the undead are shattered.
Instead my retinas are seared by 2 million blinding light bulbs as I try to find the off switches. And then three hours later all the lamps are off and I finally get upstairs, only to look downstairs and realize I forgot one. And that MIA song come into my head and "ALL I WANNA DO IS (gun shots)". And I'm like "that song finally makes sense." And I'm either imagining shooting myself or Thomas Edison.
So if my parents wake up and find me dead in the morning, they will read this blog post and know that it was their fault.
After I write things like that I think "I hope I don't really die tonight because then I will have gone out while nonchalantly joking about killing Thomas Edison and that's in bad taste." Also my last words won't have been inspiring, but instead "Did you see the latest Star Trek movie?"
Come on Kayla. Say more important things.
Oh and here are the lamps
Also, when I finally got to bed, my dad had hid a very loudly ticking clock under my bed.
Does anybody else have trouble determining if their dad is joking with them or threatening them?
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