Messy days

I'm a mess. I'm wearing inside out pajama bottoms and a torn punk rock tee. My hair is ratted and matted, and my curly locks are jumbled together like my thoughts. I am sans shoes and bra and have a leopard handkerchief around my hair to hide the gray.

It's a county holiday but I'm underwater at work. I have to put in at least a few hours to get ahead for the week. I go through my calendar, and start documenting files and reading reports. 

The pandemic has created a backlog and this week I will pay the price. I started working on this mammoth week on Friday. I had anxiety all weekend about it so decided to work today to alleviate the stress. I have a new tactic where I put emails in drafts to send out later. It allows me to prep without seeming like I'm too far ahead.

I decide to go for a drive to my favorite coffee shop to get coffee and avocado toast. Blasting Sledford Mods, I roll down the windows and sing along. Speeding down Glen Helen Parkway, I feel alive and free.

The traffic light turns green and I make a right on Sierra. Pulling into Klatch Coffee's drive-thru, I look in my rear view mirror and it's worse than I thought. I look a fright. 

But fuck it. We're in a damn pandemic and I need coffee more than I need to impress anyone. Embrace the mess, I think to myself. And I promise myself to brush my hair later. 

I guess the point of all this is to show that I, like many of you, are struggling to keep it together. But I am keeping it together. One day and one espresso at a time.