The Struggles

I have a job that involves an extreme amount of energy and patience and some days I come home with an empty tank that can only be refilled with a cold DC and a 9.5 hour nap. So here we are starting off February with 3 things this girl just ain't got time for.

L A U N D R Y. 

Everybody hates it. Just why. Why is laundry a thing. Being an art teacher, I feel like I dirty clothes a lot faster than the average human. I always end up with some kind of paint slobber in an inconspicuous spot that I can only see with a full length mirror and a spot light. Meaning I should have to wash my clothes more often then most...my solution? Don't even wash them. Just wear a shirt that's long enough to cover the stain so I can wear these highlighter pink pants next week. The more washing, the more fading, or least that's my excuse. Even if that means using stain remover and dishsoap in-between washes. But really. Laundry is the worst. The more days that go by the worse it gets. You just can't win.

Sloooooooowwwwww waaaaallllkkkers.

Now, Kim and Glen didn't bless me with the longest of legs but they did bless me with the longest of strides, so getting behind ol' slowpoke is something straight out of a horror film. Take a cue from Ludacris and Get Out the Way. I'm not just casually strolling around Target, I'm on a mission to hit every aisle before the store closes in 3.76 minutes. However there is one thing that is byfar the worst nightmare of a fast walker, a pack of snails. You know what I'm talking about. The family of 14, with 3 strollers, a toppling toddler, and a grandmother on the loose, all walking in a straight line across your path at -36 miles per hour. Those people. THE STRUGGLE. 

Rapunzal.

Yes, this one is a self-inflicted pain in the ass. My hair is such a strugglebus these days. When my hair is long, like it is, it literally gets stuck in everything. I zip it in my coat, other people's coats, slam it in the car door, close it in the sunroof, get glue in it, paint, snacks, you name it. My hair is just out of this world, cray. And your answer would be to cut it, right? But I can't! Like any girl would tell you, it's taken me YEARS to grow out this mane and I'm not about to chop it yet...at least I don't think. Although the days I have the tangles of a homeless dog, it seems really appealing to pull a Miley Cyrus or JLaw and just hack it all off. It grows back right? But then again, it would take me roughly 8.3238 years to grow it back to the length I like it. So I guess I'm petitioning baseball hats, 24/7, 365. 

Clearly these are all first world problems. but still problems none the less. 

Peace.