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This week’s happenings brought to you in the form of inner, spastic monologues.

 

Purging material possessions feels so good! So productive! Go me!
We have a chocolate fountain?
This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, it’s so impulsive, this is such a bad idea…
THIS IS THE BEST IDEA! I LOVE GETTING RID OF STUFF!
Oh, look, a stress pimple.
You brought this stress on yourself. You’re an idiot.
I HAVE NUNCHUCKS?!
Dreamt about Altoids last night. Found 2 cans purging today. But…I haven’t had an Altoid in 5 years…so, how…?
Dah-ding! Quickly gives self whiplash by checking Facebook Marketplace alert. Yes, sir, you CAN offer me asking price for these 17 bags of used wine corks.
I’m exhausted. But so much to do. Can’t take a break…
…Current status: Man, I really want to buy an oversized stuffed pickle with glasses.
Oh, look, another stress pimple. Oh, no, wait. There are two.
I really should have not put the Craigslist Killer movie on as background packing noise…
Is Pluto a planet again, or no?
How many black cardigans do I really need?
How many black cardigans with sequins do I really need?
How many cardigans do I really need? Stares at mound of approximately 50 cardigans for 5 minutes, possibly without blinking. “I have a problem,” whispers out loud to self. Stares for 5 more minutes. Turns and walks to fridge to get a beer.
Oh, look, another stress pimple.
Dah-ding! Finger on phone screen immediately. No, ma’am, I will not take your offer of 6$ for my $700 sofa.
What if Mike was short for Micycle?
There’s a stress zit on my kneecap. What the actual f—
Dah-ding! Phone is on face at this point, eyes wiggling back and forth to keep up with all the selling activity. No, sir, I actually won’t be available at midnight on a Thursday for you to come to my house to look at this $15 dollar set of teacups to make sure you really like them.
Welp, spent about $294875942875932874932 dollars at Starbucks this week. Pulls through the Starbucks drive-thru. “Hi, can I get 7 flat whites, please?”
Looks at husband, real panic sinks in “Realtor will be here tomorrow to take pics, and then the house is going up for sale! We have so much left to do!” Sits down and watches Breaking Bad marathon
Clean, clean, clean, purge, purge, trash, scream, purge, clean, trash, drink.
Is a bleach high a real thing?
Dah-ding! Dah-ding! Dah-ding! Dah-di—
“Honey!” Husband is shaking me awake. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream!”

“A-a dream?” I ask.

“A dream!” he says. “Well, the dah-ding part. You’re just hearing that phantom sound continuously now.”

“Will it be permanent?”

“Probably. But guess what?”

“What?”

“We did it!” he hugs me.

“We. Did. It?” I repeat. I squeeze him back real hard. “WE DID IT!”

“But also,” he says. “Someone offered me $20 for your car. We should take it, yeah?”
Punches husband in face, heads to the medicine cabinet to put zit cream on beautiful, new emerging stress pimples.

 

 

Happy Hump Day, everyone.

 

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