My daily essential bathroom items are in a laundry basket that I carry from my room to my girls’; if it had wheels, I’d be ready for the streets.
My new underwear that I bought with Christmas gift cards is too small- despite the specs saying 12-14 (fatty).
I’ve taken to wearing my black velour loungewear during the day at work.
I’m afraid to go downstairs after 9pm for fear of seeing the other owners.
I’ve had little sleep in the past two months and my hem isn’t helping. (BTW: my personal assistant/mother told me that I’ll have to sit with this for another month).
Dust is everywhere from the last minute demo and all my help has left the building.
Been going through appliances like one changes a KN95 mask.
The house is falling apart, in part to the brothel of rats that keep reproducing.
I’m making major decisions on purchases after two minutes looking on the web and cannot recall if what I bought will even look decent.
I wake up before work to clean the dishes and sterilize them… come home at lunch to finish cleaning and return after work to do more cleaning- and some effer thought I was due.
And I no longer give a shit when Mrs. Maisel is coming out because I’m too busy trying to keep this house of cards up in a tornado!
Oh, and I decided that 13 capsules a day was just too much, so I gave up my .324 cm bc pills. Now its a crap shoot for when I’ll get the plague version of my period after twenty-seven years and there’s nothing my fat ass, small underwear and hem need more than a banana boat sized pad wedged betwixt my chops!