Tom's Nostalgic Morning

[obiwonkanoboe]

Somewhere, not very far from here, is a very warm, very cozy bed that could easily take away this sensation of a million tiny pins sticking into my skin. I could probably procure a kitten to cuddle with- possibly even two. I would have down pillows and down comforter and endless possibilities for washing away the sleep deprivation. But some unexplicable force in me (something akin to the fourth tier on Maslow's hierarchy of needs) is going to compel me to deny myself these luxuries and go serve bitch middle aged women sugar free vanilla, non-fat lattes all morning. And they will tell me how wonderful the drink I made them is. But they will not tip. Middle aged women almost never tip.

Can anyone explain to me why we deny ourselves the things we want just to get a paycheck?