Mess

I…am a mess.

Listen, I’m not proud of that.  In fact, when Eric started calling me “Mess” as a cute little nickname, I protested because that is not something I want to be.  I want to transcend my tendencies to be a hapless walking catastrophe.

But yesterday, I went into the pantry to grab the peanut butter and graham crackers which has been my morning breakfast for a while now, and a box of spaghetti fell to the floor.  I picked it up and proceeded to spill almost the entire box onto the floor.  So, now I was going to have to play the worst game of Pick Up Stix ever, and I could only bring myself to do some of it because I was hungry and hadn’t even had coffee yet.

So, I grabbed for the box of graham crackers, and they, too, fell to the floor.  Only instead of spilling, it fell from a great height onto the largest side of the box, resulting in breaking every single remaining graham cracker sheet into a bunch of random pieces.

I soldiered on, picking up three sizable pieces and slathering them in peanut butter, which I dunked into the coffee.  Only, due to the compromised integrity of the cookies from their fall, it became unstable and the entire thing, except for the one dry corner I was holding, kind of melted and fell into my coffee.  I tried to fish it out with another piece of graham cracker, and then, I lost that too.  It sank into the coffee which was now filling up with graham cracker peanut butter sludge.  I ate the last piece of breakfast dry, grabbed a spoon and dredged my mug of coffee, and drank what I could before giving up and switching to a new mug.

You guys, I can no longer deny it.  I am a mess.

EDITED TO ADD: I reached in to grab some potatoes for dinner, and somehow a box of protein bars leaped off the shelf to attack me.  So, the issue is clearly that pantry.  Not me.  I’m perfect!

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