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.
PR: Oh.
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).
You're not really blaming this on your parents, are you?
ReplyDeleteDon't worry, Dad. You've done just fine :) (but if you'd only looked in my closet whenever you thought my room was clean this probably could have been avoided)
DeleteI did look but decided there were more important things to worry about than closets.
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