Why don’t you get yourself a delicious and wonderfully unhealthy snack? I’m actively trying not to eat a bag of kettle chips every day. Instead, I’m eating like two Fudge Rounds and have rarely been living a better life. They aren’t healthy, and they’re not as good as a homemade brownie, but they’re still a decadent treat. Go get yourself something wonderful and stuff your face with it. I’m going to go grab another one.
Why don’t you treat yourself to a day of utter and complete and blissfully peaceful solitary confinement? I am constantly bombarded by noise. Music and ads and the news and students and professors and screeching cats and endless phone calls and more. This weekend, I hope to turn off all my devices and sleep and relax and do yoga and then sleep some more. I’m tired of noise. Being a live is like so stressful. Nobody asked for this lol. Sounds like it’s time to start thinking about my monastic retreat. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Why don’t you treat yourself for lunch for no good reason? I’m going to go to the gas station and get breadsticks because I deserve it. Do I really? Probably not. But I’m out of rice, which is my staple, and I’m not in the mood to go shopping. I’m leaving for Mexico in a day anyway. And as I type that, I realize that it has nothing to do with anything, but I love a good excuse. I can’t wait to gorge myself on breadsticks and soda.
Why don’t you gorge yourself on tacos until you become physically ill and regret your life choices? I’m really looking forward to doing so this weekend when I’m in Mexico City. I’m going to have so many fish tacos that it’s stupid. I’m so excited, I’m so pumped that I can barely think about anything else but tacos and my beloved courtyard cats and more tacos. Blessed. [UPDATE: The tacos were BOMB.]
Why don’t you accept that you have to have a car and stop ignoring everything it needs done to it? I had a mental breakdown in the automotive aisle of Walmart last night and bought new wipers, an air thing, silicon tire filler, and wipes to make the windows not get so foggy inside. I don’t know how to do any of this, but I’m going over to a friend’s house in a bit who for some reason I don’t understand (he’s a gay, after all, we don’t do cars…) knows how to work with cars and get it all put back in shipshape. Treat yourself by treating your possessions. But have somebody else do it.