No really, I’m a total mess. Disorganized. Disheveled. Mainly, I’m too busy trying to remember to do everything, so when I jump from one task to the next, I end up lost. In my mess.
I’m currently sitting in the waiting room at the health clinic, because I like to wait until the very VERY last minute to do everything. Last night I took my very last anti-depressant. I ran out of birth control probably 6 months ago. And MY HIP.
Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. I manage to convince myself to come to the doctor once in a milennia.
But of course, I set my bag down and realize the pink canvas messanger bag I carry my life around in is covered in coffee stains. Obviously. Because I spill coffee on a daily basis (I’m not kidding. I’ve even managed to spill coffee into a pair of boots, while wearing them). But of course stains on stuff are just gross, and even worse is that on pink, coffee stains come across more like blood stains! It looks like a murder occurred in close proximity to my bag! And I am carrying this around on my person!!!
I can only picture what people think when they see me out in the world, with my murder bag. I know what I would be thinking, if I saw someone who wasn’t me. Gross!
This is me, unable to adult. Once again. I have no shame.
Lies. I have so much shame. Well, a little shame. I can hear Justin: “why are you gross!?” I can’t help it. I have a limited number of things I can remember to do on a daily basis, and Not Be Gross isn’t on the list. Although, really–it should be.
And of course when all is said and done, I still managed to forget to bring up my lack of birth control. So, I guess I stuck to their 2 Issue Limit.