See, there's this little guy in the back of my head. I call him the Galleymaster. And when I try to sleep in, or sometimes even just relax, the Galleymaster busts out his giant kettle drum and his bullwhip and starts his show.
"Row, slave, row! Tote that oar! there's shit to do!"
oh, god. I need to sleep. leave me alone.
"Row! No sleep for you! Just row! ROW, YOU WHORE!"
I'm ignoring youuuu. come back later. I'm so tired.
"Haul oar! Feed cat! Do laundry! Call roofers! There's no fucking orange juice! Make money! Row, goddammit!" *cracks whip*
And eventually, I just get up and haul that fucking oar, because there's nothing else to do when the Galleymaster starts his hectoring. That whip stings, and the drums just never goddamn well stop until you're rowing for all you're worth.
I'm looking forward to a week or so at the rents'. I am responsible for virtually nothing there, and the Galleymaster shuts the hell up for a while.
QWP, Context is back rowing with the other slaves.