Check Me Out

Wirt was bored. Sure, this was an unavoidable and common problem that nearly every human on Earth experienced, but... Wirt was the kind of person almost proud to claim to be able to entertain himself.

He had books that he could lose himself within, blank notebooks he could fill with powerful verses, a VCR with a few movie tapes he found enjoyable, and he could always mess around in the kitchen and try out a recipe out of the cookbook his step dad had sent him.

Unfortunately for the man, the probability of him finding joy in any of these activities was at an all time low.

All the books in his apartment had been read thoroughly, his creativity was currently nonexistent, he had forgotten how to work the movie player, and he had yet to go grocery shopping that week.

Well, there was something he could do. If he was in any mood to be glared at like a kleptomaniac. The last time he had made a trip to the town's Whole Foods, he had forgotten to scan a pack of gum at the self checkout. The result had been alarms going off and a purple haired manager threatening to call the cops on him.

So, Wirt would be avoiding making a food run for as long as possible, which effectively eliminated his last chance of not passing out due to the overwhelming boredom he was afflicted with.

He pulled a couch cushion over his face and groaned as he forced his body to sit up. There was no way he was going to waste a rare day off of work from the publishing house sleeping.

He just had to... wake up. Yes, laying down until noon had obviously taken a negative toll on the brunet's attitude for the sunny Tuesday afternoon. He would hop in the shower, see what he could salvage for a decent breakfast- er, brunch, and take a stroll around the block.

Plan set firmly in his mind, Wirt jumped to his feet. And regretted the action immediately. An insistent, rare thrum of laziness added ten pound weights to all of his limbs and made the couch he had just freed himself from seem as tempting as the forbidden fruit.

Okay, new game plan. He just needed to make himself somewhat presentable and throw himself out the door before he gave into the siren's call his cheap couch was emulating.

The man glanced down at himself to assess how much effort he was going to have to put into his appearance. He had slept in his clothes from yesterday; slacks and a button up, so if he just smoothed everything down and doused himself in cologne, he would be fine.

Beginning to fix his attire, he took the four steps necessary to reach his cramped bathroom.

Everything about the place was cramped, in actuality, but Wirt really shouldn't be complaining. If this was the only way he could get out of his last living situation (with nightmare roommate, Beatrice) he'd embrace the tiny accommodation with eager arms.

He caught his own gaze in the mirror and flinched. Oh dear lord.

Wirt ran a hand through the tangled mop going in every which way atop his head with a noise of disgust rising from his throat. His bed head was always a frightful sight, but crashing on the sofa for nearly twelve hours had clearly made the morning mess of his hair shockingly worse.

The brunet reached for his brush and set to work on fixing the problem area as well as he was able to. Not very, apparently, but it looked infinitesimally better than it had. A sigh escaped him as he reluctantly accepted this was as good he was going to get it.

He brushed his teeth, sprayed himself down with deodorant, slipped on some shoes, and had successfully made it out the door without falling defeatedly back to the couch. Wirt didn't feel like the victor in the battle.