Some stories are meant to stay in my drafts.
There’s a good reason I didn’t drink for the majority of my adult life.
I should stick to cleaning house and meditating when the kids are away to avoid being consciously aware that a.) I don’t have a plethora of adult friends to have adult conversation with and b.) no adult conversations means no chance of hyper fixating (see previous posts regarding being neurodivergent.)
I can’t be trusted on Amazon while two glasses of wine in.
There’s a tiktok hashtag about over sharing in your underwear and I’d like to blame the full moon.
Back to my regular shit show of “shit I can’t make up” and surreal awkwardness.
Happy Monday, bitches!
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