Doing 100 density squats, 100 clubbell swipes, and 1000 Bulgarian graveyard muscle fucks* on Friday and my quads are wrecked. *An imaginary exercise Billy invented while we were complaining about all the ridiculous shit we do during workouts at kettlebell training.
Feeling like an asshole for never being able to stop complaining about my relatively nice easy life.
Feeling guilt for letting the celery go bad again.
Not eating enough salad.
Needing groceries from four different stores.
Peeing when I cough.
Recovering from a depressive episode and having to do all the shit I couldn't get to for a year.
NEVER ENOUGH COFFEE.
Attending volunteer training.
Finally caving and going to a friend's cult meeting.
Bad cell phone reception.
Going to plays.
Possible sleep apnea.
NEVER ENOUGH SLEEP.
Trying to reconcile faith in a benevolent universe with the evidence of profound suffering and random natural disasters.
Shopping for light bulbs at IKEA.
Not meditating enough.
The Sisyphean litterbox task.
Doing/not doing the dishes.
Calling/not calling you back.
Having sex/not having sex with you.
Always searching for a great cinnamon roll, always settling for a less-than-great one. Knowing it's a metaphor for my life.
Deciding where to meet you for lunch.
Realizing that I am going to die one day and someone is going to find my vibrator and all the candy wrappers under my bed.
Always being out of tampons.
Having to say hi.
Having dinner with someone who doesn't have any good gossip.
Being frightened by loud nighttime refrigerator noises.
The possibility of ghosts.
Seeing Travis in the silverware drawer again.* *Travis is what I call any giant cockroach.
Inner child work.
That certified letter I got from the I.R.S two months ago that I still haven't opened.
Knowing that I have to go to the D.M.V. this year to renew my license.
Not being able to find a $20 pair of Martha Stewart Craft scissors I bought a year ago and have never used.
NEVER ENOUGH QUESO.
Going to the eye doctor.
Cutting out a sewing pattern for a dress I know I will fuck up when I try to make it.
Trying to draw lips.
Loud ceiling fan.
Forgetting that MoPac is always fucked now.
Trying to hear the small quiet voice and wondering why it just won't speak louder.
Taking showers in a hurry.
Habitually overdoing it with the leave-in conditioner.
Contemplating my utter powerlessness over people, places, and things.
Still not being finished with the ear surgeon's biography.
Still halfheartedly trying Law of Attraction manifestation exercises.
Listening to anything by Miles Davis recorded after 1970.
Listening to anyone talk about jazz.
Going to Costco.
Having a rogue anxiety attack at the grocery store.
Being out of klonopin.
Going to the pharmacy.
Cleaning up after making collages.
Using the big frying pan.
Cleaning the juicer.
Bending over to remove toenail polish.
Explaining to you again why you need meds even if you're going to yoga and making your own kombucha.
Being anemic but iron pills give me a stomachache.
Going back in to make sure the stove is off.
Always searching for my good Sharpie.
Cooking brown rice.
Habitually thinking of possible catastrophes when things are going really well.
Putting off making a colonoscopy appointment.
Confronting the Inner Critic on an empty stomach.
Going to the Farmer's market with a friend who likes to talk to all the vendors.