So, I was planning on bringing up the discussion about body image for my second article...haha no. Tonight, my mind immediately went into immature bitterness because all I want in life is the unobstructed adult flow that is able to efficiently go throughout daily tasks of living.

I mean imagine this: you finish pumping gas and you are actually able to remember to close the car gas lid before you get in your car and leave, you remember to buy more toilet paper before you run out (haven't run into this problem in my new place where I live alone, thank god), you are able to only run on 8 hours of sleep, you are able to update your iPhone OS on the regs, you are able to walk into a bar and know the difference between asking for lemon vs. a lime. Actually that last one was a real thing, but only because I was on a date and I was super nervous. Oh my god, I want to amend that last statement. Imagine being able to talk to someone your interested in without forgetting the difference between a lemon and lime.

Let me take a moment to step back and take a second to describe what precipitated me to open the good bottle of $7 wine on a Sunday night (with homework to do) to settle down and write this rant.

I had one of the more free weekends I have had in awhile. Didn't do much the first day but work and hang out with a friend I haven't seen in awhile. Today, I just had an hour long phone meeting to discuss and listen in on more work-related stuff, so naturally I wake up at noon a few hours before the call. You see, I want to say I am good at getting assignments completed intermittently over time so as to avoid instances of panic and/or stress induced time trying to finish things, but I am definitely not that guy. I can appreciate those times of stress, nay, I actually look forward to those times of stress because I can actually have a life in the meantime. Although, the jury is out on whether that is okay for my health but I'll get back to you in a few more years. Sunday evenings are usually filled with completing all of my weekend assignments and chores at once. Tonight, I have all the hits to look forward to: microbiology quizzes, medical ethics readings, immunology studying, laundry, certain articles for a certain website to write ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), etc.

After listening in on the phone meeting for work was completed, I realized I was out of detergent so I saw the need to go to Target almost 15 minutes away. What can I say? Procrastination is a powerful thing. Two and a half hours later, it is early evening and I have finally arrived home. Open the front door and I see Clawdia the cat lounging on my couch staring daggers at me, what a wonderful welcome. I put my Target spoils on the kitchen counter, everything is good. I head to my bedroom with Clawdia in tow so that I could change into a running outfit; I had time to go exercise for the first time in weeks right? The universe decided enough was enough. I've had it way too easy lately. I enter my room to see that my. cat. spewed. a. massive. hairball. onto. my. bed. atop. a. newly. bought. comforter.

*breathe* "It's okay."
*breathe* "Clawdia didn't mean it."
*breathe* "She's just old. I just adopted her. She doesn't know yet." *breathe*

I gently brush Clawdia off of my bed, who I assume was nervous about this altercation all evening, and immediately take my comforter to the sink. I scrub for 5 minutes and throw that shriveled mess into the washer - it's now a waiting game. I know she's a cat, she doesn't understand. I am in fact the adult of the house and I have 'sponsibilites. It's all good.

I decide to go on my run and it was pretty routine. I arrive home to find my washer is still running so I begin my assignments for the evening. Microbiology quiz was cake, begin work on microbio email to TA to finalize a future bacteria isolation goal - realize washer is done so I stop, put comforter in dryer, begin again -, finish microbio paper email, begin and finish medical ethics reading...

*BEEP*

My dryer screamed it was finished and my heart sank. I, me, Shawn Spencer adult extraordinaire put my new comforter blanket into the dryer. I run and open the dryer and my comforter is absolutely destroyed. It's shriveled times a thousand, angry, faded, gushing fluffy innards from various laceration points. How could this happen? How could I have ruined something by doing something you were always advised not to do? My mother, who is in a deep cycle of REM at this point, is probably having a stress dream about this right now.

I know this conclusion might be construed as "wow, that's it?" I am confirming those thoughts. I am but a bitter man who is salty about his cat catalyzing the only thing to go wrong this weekend. Life has a funny way of keeping you in check to, not only realizing your limits, but also reminding you that you are always going to mess something up at some point. No one is perfect and that is absolutely okay. Well, until that message settles in for me I will just finish this wine, article and laundry.

Until next week,

Shawn

PS: As a reader, please take this moment to send good vibes in the hopeless recovery of my comforter carcass and the hopefully expedient arrival of my new one that should have been shipped and arrived by the time this article has been published. Also here is an image of the villain in my story. #ClawdiaTheCatWatchYourBack