When facing a low GRE score and the certain damnation of my future into a cesspool of paralyzing boredom (or is it insignificance?), I feel like curling up into a boomer-ball
and rolling away away away
But boomer doesn’t curl into boomer-balls because she’s feeling ashamed! She doesn’t curl into boomer-balls because all she wants to do is quit! She never bemoans the hopelessness of her situation. She doesn’t even cry, unless there is a squirrel who won’t cooperate with her or the vet pricks or cuts or sticks her. The boomer-balls are purely an admission to the exciting and adventurous day she’s had.
Maybe I haven’t found those exciting and adventurous everydays yet, but until I do I can’t really curl into a boomer-ball. So I’ll just have to try the fudge again.