After putting 1400 miles on the road for business travel and working a busy week last week, I announced that on Sunday I intended to remain in my pajamas, sprawl out on the couch, and spend the day as a true “Couch Potato.” I told my husband that if he knew what was good for him, he’d forget any notions of being a “stud” and join me on the sofa as a “spud”.
As for the children, I asked them to be well-behaved little tater tots, and warned them not to invite friends over to play. Mama needed one day off just to sit in front of the TV, watch football, and “veg”. As some wise soul once said: “My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint.”
We all know that spending too much time as a couch potato is a bad thing, but sometimes it’s exactly what I need to stop my brain from turning into a cold “shoestring fry”.
Of course, some potatoes are too far gone to be reformed. But then, it’s easy to tell the difference:
Two “hot” potatoes are standing on the street corner.
How can you tell which one is the prostitute?
She’s the one with the sticker that says: “IDAHO”.
