Setting the scene: between Monday and yesterday I received 79 emails, all school related. I have a 12 page literary analysis paper due on Monday. I’m coordinating a scholarship, performing qualitative research for a professor, and trying to finish a hand lettering gift for my roommate’s birthday on Friday. In times like these, my closet is first to go. My poor roommate.
Poor Roommate: Ready to work out?
Me: (pantsless) Um. I can’t find my yoga pants.
PR: What do you mean
Me: (pointing to closet) They’re…in there.
Me: I can’t face it.
PR: Well you can’t go looking like that. Dig.
Me: (frantically digging) they’re…not…oh. Here they are.
PR: This is getting out of hand.
Me: (panting and shoving clothes into closet and slamming doors) Clearly I am not ready to be a grownup yet.
It’s official: my life is chaos and I am in no position to take care of myself. My parents have failed to equip me to be a productive citizen. There is no hope.
At least these pictures of model Lindsey Wixon taken by the talented Paul Wetherell are beautiful and polished. She clearly has her life together. I’ll bet everything in her closet is pressed and hung with care and folded and put away. I’ll bet she knows where her iron is. Talk about productive citizen! My closet and I can only aspire to be half as put together as she is. Maybe one day…
Happy. Wednesday (oh lord is it Wednesday already? I really am in trouble).