Smooth, like Partially Hydrogenated Vegetable Shortening.

I know how long it takes for me to walk from my coffeeshop to the Vivarium.

I know how long it takes for me to bike from the Vivarium to my work.

I generally plan accordingly.

The other day, I was a bit not on top of things, and I didn’t charge my phone before I left, so it died while I was out.

These things all accumulated into this:


I dropped my keys at the coffeeshop. I walked to the Vivarium, to find myself locked out, and unable to get to my gear for my bike. (Little things, like, helmet, *keys*.)

I could not call my work to tell them I’d be late because I had a dead phone.

So, I knocked on my wonderful neighbours door, and he was beautiful and kind and generous and let me look up the number and use his phone to call.

(This is compounded by the fact that the phone at work is a piece of crap, and hangs up on people if the call lasts for more than 40 seconds? So, I had to call *six times* to tell them that I’d locked myself out of my flat and would be late coming in. It was *great*.)

Then I walked back to the coffeeshop, picked up my keys, walked back and went to work.


I feel like I’m doing a really good job of defining “hot mess” right now.

Look at me! I’m definitely a functioning adult!


…I promise.





…Sort of….


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