IF I WERE TO LIST ALL THE REASONS I need a vacation I would break the internet worse than when Kim Kardashian popped a bottle of champagne into a glass that was balanced on her booty.
So here are 10 MINOR details from my daily routine that remind me, everyday, that I need a vacation because lets face it, adulting is hard…
Wake up, go through 75 outfit changes before deciding that it’s not the clothes that are misshapen, it’s me. Discard every single rejected outfit onto the floor and swear to pick it up later (I won’t). Also swear to make more time to go to the gym so I’m less misshapen, (again, I won’t.)
Try to get ready. And by try, I mean try to scrub all of the imperfection off of my face via some cleanser that took 10 minutes to find because the bathroom counter looks like a 5 year old was trying to do a chemistry project. That chemistry project is my face. I am the 5 year old.
Next step is to apply make-up which first requires me to put my hair into some sort of obscene tribal bun on top of my head which qualifies me for renaming myself Chief Bun of Mess.
Now to dig through the drawer full of various make-up tubes and palates ranging in shades all the way from irresponsible-80s-kindergartener to red-carpet-Golden-Globe-extra, just to resort to the same three products that I use very time.
And one of those products includes my arch-nemesis. Eyeliner. Don’t. Even. Get. Me. Started. An overzealous raccoon could apply a thinner, more even, line than this.
Time to revisit that hair and renounce my chiefdom. But the problem is now my hair is bent in all sorts of weird ways and has wrapped itself around the hair tie and is holding on as tight as Rose should have been to Jack on the raft.
This hair is absolutely hopeless now and I am now going to reinstate my chiefdom and resort back to the messy bun, which somehow doesn’t look as cute as when those Instagram chicks do it, I just end up looking ratchet. (Which is a daily occurrence now, so I am contemplating just completing the look by going full on People of Walmart.)
As I’m rushing around I now remember to feed my cat, because I am a responsible pet-parent, and also because I hear his annoying, incessant meowing for a more balanced breakfast than the trash that I just fed myself; which was some sort of half eaten pop tart from last night’s Netflix binge.
Now that I have unearthed my keys and phone I can finally walk out the door. If I were to go by the clock in my car I would be on time, actually early, but I didn’t change it for daylight savings soooooo…. Late-fest. Its actually surprising that I can even see the clock, because again, episode of hoarders worthy. I’m just going to text my boss that I hit traffic, and will be late…and by traffic, I mean Starbucks. I’m going to hit up Starbucks. Rule number one of adulthood, you are never too late for coffee.
I literally haven’t even made it to work yet and I am already drowning in reasons why I should be drowning myself in Pina coladas on a beach somewhere. I need a vacation because adulting sucks, I’m over it, and that’s all the reason I need.