Two story houses aren’t for lazy people

Two story houses.  They were a dream of mine since I was a little kid.  Not really sure why, I guess it’s the stairs mostly.  Dreaming of sliding down the railings, jumping down from the second floor, having a fireman’s pole, or building a swing from the ceiling.

Funny how the reason why I wanted to live in a two story house is the reason why I do not.  Not sure if it’s due to living in a two story house for too long, or just complete laziness.  I think it may be the latter, but far out going up and down stairs is annoying.  I really need to go and get my essays and stuff from the printer so I can revise, but…  It’s so far away, it’s all the way downstairs, in the Land of the Forgotten.

I spend the majority of time in my room, as not to be stared at or judged by my parents for what I’m doing.  So, as it works out, I’ve basically dragged everything important into my room, except the printer.  You know, I can actually hear it when it prints my things.

To get, or not to get, that is the question.

Do people who aren’t lazy enjoy going up and down stairs?  Is that, their dream?  To stand at the bottom, gazing up the flight of stairs and think, “Yet another time in which I will concur the mighty stair!”


Maybe if I had known I’d grow up to be such a lazy ass girl then I would’ve asked my parents to buy a one story house.  Or a treehouse.

Take care,
Just Another Woo Girl


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