Woe Is Me yada yada Where’s the Booze? I Mean Maid.
Lately I feel like such a big fucking mess. Since we are approaching the end of “woe is me” week, I hope that writing this post will release the last of my bad juju and let me get back to feeling like my usual badass motherfucker self.
It is the second half of January and my Christmas tree is still up. Up until two hours ago the kitchen counter (and stove top and part of the floor) was covered in trash. Empty wine bottles, empty microwave dinner boxes, empty cereal boxes, and a sticky ice cream bowl containing a week’s worth of used coffee filters. If it weren’t for the few framed vintage fashion prints hanging on the walls, you’d assume this was the apartment of a 20 year-old guy, right down to the Maxim magazines and dusty bottle of lube on the bedside table.
Oh, and I think I accidentally poisoned my dog. She has been trying to sleep for the last hour but I keep waking her up every five minutes to make sure she’s not dead.
