You might wonder why I care whether I look put together or not. Well, here's why: because I lost a half-gallon of strawberry ice cream somewhere in my house sometime in the last three hours. Hannah and I stopped at the store after I picked her up and we bought three kinds of ice cream -- two pints of Ben & Jerry's and a half-gallon of Breyer's strawberry. The strawberry was for Hannah. We got home, put the ice cream away, gave Hannah an antibiotic for her infected finger. It's pretty gross. Then I made dinner, and we sat down and ate. After dinner, Hannah asked for ice cream. And I...can't find it. I've checked every room, every cabinet, both refrigerators, both freezers, the trash, the pantry, the car, the porch, the grill, the washing machine. It has disappeared into the Bermuda triangle that is our home. And it's actually pretty clean right now. This kind of shit happens to me all the time. ALL THE TIME.
I would love to BE together and not just look it. But I feel like at least looking it is a step toward being it. And people that have it together don't have half a gallon of strawberry ice cream melting...somewhere...in their houses.
This makes no sense.