I don’t like being one. But here I am. And sometimes, being a grownup means making cheeseburgers and doing dishes and hanging with your sponsor who is moving in two months and you feel a little like what? and then you make more food cuz the boy is still hungry and you make a phone call even though you hate the phone but you love the person whose birthday was yesterday and you don’t wanna just post on their Facebook wall and then you send an email you don’t wanna but know you should and watch a clip of ridiculous video with your teen boy before chastising him for leaving the bath mat on the floor because peeing on it is your cat’s favorite pastime. Then you have an awesome convo about books and text a friend about the job she’s interviewing for tomorrow with the douche you used to work for and you think about getting back to your own book when conversations die down but then you lay down and your non-pee-attacking cat curls up in the small of your back and you realize you haven’t blogged yet today and you wonder what you’re going to talk about and decide maybe there’s not much to say so you should probably go to sleep. Then you think back on all the things you wrote about today and the way you felt every time you blogged or journaled comes back and you think wtf, life; why you gotta be like that?

Yeah, it’s like that.



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