^I feel okay calling it that, because how do I know that we didn’t all die and just haven’t realized it yet, like Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense? Plus we were experiencing a blizzard and lightening at the same time over here, so that felt pretty end-of-the-word-ish.

The universe gifted me a snow day on my last day so that I would have time to focus on the things that really matter. This is what I did with my final hours:

Turned my shower into a closet.


I finally got around to hand-washing the 20 or so hand-wash only outfits that had been rotting in a canvas bag in my bedroom, saturating in their own faint stench of arm pits for the past several months.

In the process I accidentally flooded the bathroom and broke our drain. I still can’t fix the drain, no matter how many times I beat it with a butter knife.

Gave Ketos-Man piggyback rides around the apartment. 


Please ignore the fuzzy, long-legged spider attached to my scalp. That thing must have crawled on there in the night.

Did this to my fingernails.


Totally, objectively, awesome—right? I couldn’t wait for the compliments to start flooding in the next day.  But they didn’t. Nobody said anything about them, no matter how many times I needlessly spread my fingers out across computer monitors and cups and walls.  How many more fucking shades of blue does a girl need to paint her fingernails to get some attention in this Godforsaken town? I did finally get my first and last compliment at around 9:17pm. (Thanks Abby!)


That’s all. Just wanted to leave you with a picture of me looking fun and flirty so that the picture of the spider on my head is not the last image you have of me in your mind.