I just spent a good half hour mopping poop smears off my bathroom floor. I never thought I'd see myself doing this.
Now I'm going to bet that half of you reading this think I'm talking about how I wasn't prepared for the vagaries of motherhood but, in the end, I love it too much to give it up (not to mention that I might be charged with neglect if I did). But that's not the case. I'm unmarried, childless, and willingly admit that I'm totally unprepared for the vagaries of motherhood.
Nope, it was cat poop caused by a bout of kitty indigestion brought on by the fact that I left the butter out. Again.
But back to that total lack of preparedness. I'm, like, verging on my thirties and I'm pretty terrified that I'm never going to be a grown-up. Sure, I've held down a pretty sweet job for OVER A YEAR, and I haven't managed to completely total the car I bought last year. But I'm pretty sure a trained monkey could do both of those things. It takes more to be a grown-up. Like maybe, consistently not leaving the butter out. And that's what this blog's going to be about. Not leaving the butter out.
Jokes.
