I do not want to eat my lunch

It's leftover spaghetti and I ate it for dinner the last two nights. I want a Tim Horton's veggie sandwich. And it will be so. And lo, it will be in my belly by 1pm today. Stupid is the individual that doth place himself between my person and said sandwich.
It has been brought to my attention that I (and others like me: you know who you are, you sodding bastards) have been thinking too much. I hate when I do that. It's so much easier to be a complacent, unquestioning automaton. Okay, I'm kidding: there is a happy medium. I'm there now. I'm sort of thinking, but not really. I have the inclination to make a mountain out of a mole hill, but I'm too tired to bother. I'm just going to go with the flow. See? See how I float effortlessly down this river of nihilism and apathy? I kid, I kid. I'm anything but apathetic, and I believe in everything and the possibility of even more.
This blog rocks. I can't wait to re-read it in a few weeks and think to myself, "wow, I was really sleep deprived that day".
I think I may quaff beer tonight, instead of wine. Maybe a Guinness - it's the beer that is also a meal. Then I am going to sleep until 11 on Saturday and then I'm meeting my realtor at 1:35. Why not 1:30? I do not know. The five minute differential perplexes me. It's so specific, what could the rationale be? See? There I go thinking again.
But what do I have to do before I meet my realtor? Come on! Guess! I have to run 6k! I wouldn't have it any other way. Maybe I should just run to our meeting. Two birds, one stone and I can sleep in until noon!
Beer. Beer me.