One morning, you wake up, you look in the mirror, and you realize you’re 33 and you keep all your important documents in the bathroom.

It starts slowly. First there are some magazines. Then a letter. A bag for recycling. Finally, when you need to check the date of the baby shower, you go straight for the invite on the toilet.

I guess I started picking up my mail after work and going straight to the bathroom…and why wait to open a letter if you can multitask. You’d waste precious seconds that could be devoted to being anxious about the surprise doctor’s bill you just opened while peeing.

Of sweats and sugars

The other night I was standing in the kitchen in my sweatsuit (because on days that ends in Y between November and March I exclusively wear sweatsuits) eating brown sugar out of the jar with my fingers and I had a thought.

Well a few thoughts.

First was “it’d be pretty humiliating if anyone knew I not only ate sugar straight from the jar but couldn’t even bother doing it with a spoon” immediately followed by “holy shit brown sugar is delicious” and then “there’s a blog in here somewhere.”

So this is that blog.

Painfully single, (semi) unemployed by (semi) choice, and dating my couch…this is the story of girls in their 30s who hate pants and biological clocks, among other things.

PS: Definitely make the effort to put your brown sugar in a jar. It stays soft that way, and when you’re scooping it directly into your mouth with your fingers you don’t have to worry about your whole hand getting sugary like it does when you stick it in the bag.