If you don't answer the phone enough times, people might resort to messages in sidewalk chalk on your street.
That won't work either, because you'll see it on your way to brunch and forget all about it until you find the picture six months later.

I had some confessions in mind about being sad to say goodbye to maxi dresses as the summer winds down because they're wearable blankets and we all know it, but it all sounded Buzzfeed-y and I got angry and deleted everything and pouted for a while about being bad at everything. 

You know, sometimes deleting things feels really fucking good. A big part of strength is understanding your weaknesses rather than pretending you don't have any. Another part is protein shakes and also, lifting weights. This train of thought has led exactly nowhere, everyone please watch the gap.

I took two Claritin yesterday and found out why you're not supposed to do that. We finally, finally finally went to donate the bags of clothes I kon-maried out of my drawers however long ago. Which meant a trip to Goodwill, which meant buying more things, because that's the circle of life. I only made it about twenty minutes, possibly my shortest GW voyage ever, because I couldn't stop sneezing. When we came home we vacuumed dust off of surfaces I hadn't even known to be capable of collecting dust and then I sat around being high for a long time. Since I was too stoned to deal with doing laundry, we ordered in Vietnamese and then later went out to buy ice cream in the middle of the night. So, if you're ever thinking to yourself, "This first Claritin isn't working, should I take another one?" just know that while you probably won't die, you probably will not get anything done and also you might eat an entire pint of rocky road ice cream because you've conditioned yourself to believe that an altered state of mind = eating all of the things. 

It took me almost forty minutes to make one shitty button for this blog thing I'm thinking about participating in. Only, I'm already late to start it. Also I'm always afraid that I'm accidentally joining some sort of internet prayer circle. Nothing against those, I'm just not interested and I'm sure that those people are not interested in hearing me talk about how itchy my right boob was the other day. Seriously! Outrageously itchy. I just kept thinking, "We really need to hire another girl here so that I don't have to bear the weight of these kinds of burdens alone."