When I stopped work early just a few short minutes ago, I did so with the intention of putting my ass in chair at the dining room table, my phone far enough across the room to deem it more annoying to get up and fetch than it would be re-watching the same people on tiktok for hours on end and inevitably murdering more of my aging brain cells that are already fighting each other for survival and dominance of the realm. I’d leave my apple watch on the charger, allow a quick trip to the fridge to pour a rather typical large glass of rosé which would be kept designedly in close proximity of my dominant drinking hand, and the tv remote would remain hidden beneath the “nighttime activated blankets” on the living room couch that both the hubs and I abhor due to its disrespectful levels of costly uncomfy-ness.

I had even come to terms with NOT putting music on as background because I knew the next step would be to interact with Alexa in order to make said tunage play handsfree. Then, as she is wont to do, that fickle bitch would surely continue to start playing the wrong song 13 times in a row even though I’d very clearly told her (with perfect diction, mind you) the correct song I wanted to hear each of those 13 times and I would then have no choice at that juncture but to get my phone, go old school, and manually play my desired track listing all on my own. All of these aforementioned movements clearly defeating the purpose of putting all devices with the ability to cause distractions out of hand’s reach.

So, I made the difficult decision to sit in the uncomfortable complete fucking silence with the exception of intermittent cat snores which, if we’re going to be honest, are actually the only acceptable ambient sounds outside of music , brown noise, and the tv. (*deep breaths* I guess this is me finally getting those deep rooted issues with silence and the fact that Alexa can never understand me shit off my chest. I bet my therapist would be proud.)

But, let’s get back to task. Why willingly deprive myself of those common 2025 luxuries? Simply, so I would be forced to complete the one item that has been moved from one day’s to-do list to the next for what I realized during a minor meltdown this morning has been for 7 months straight now.

I just needed to sit down and do this.

Write something.

Write anything.

One measly word on a page would suffice.

I needed to get back into it just like I promised myself I would at the beginning of the year. Just like I promise myself I will at the beginning of every new year. And as I had promised myself for many years past with always the same outcome. Decent headway is made January through February. Then not one ounce of productivity occurs except for the building of costumes and headpieces for Mardi Gras season followed shortly after by continuing the torture of my liver all the way through the St. Paddy’s festivities. After that comes a very sluggish return to the land of the living And finally, like clockwork…because why not? My brain decides it has been triaging the priorities all wrong this whole time and we must now only focus on bullshit like the following or all worlds in the universe will surely end:

Cleaning the house because no matter what you do it’s somehow always a mess even with no seemingly drunken toddlers or gross roommates on site.

And making more money.

And pinching more pierogi in order to make more money.

And re-organizing cabinets because shit keeps falling out when you open the doors. And fixing the landscaping so you don’t look like the incapable derelict neighbors on the block.

And CONSTANTLY having to wipe down baseboards because how and why are they so fucking dirty all the time?

And planning the meals and cooking the meals and in turn cleaning up the mess from said meals.

And medicating the cats so they don’t die.

And making so many damn phone calls that could have definitely been handled via text or email because only people legit just don’t do their jobs anymore and you have to harass them with vocal sounds in order to get things accomplished.

And all of the other daily bullshit which span endless rungs on varying obligation ladders– overtaking every singular amazingly creative cell of someone’s makeup and turning them into a creature who does nothing but notch shit off of to do lists while trying to remember what “being alive” feels like.

At some point, usually while hunched over with a Magic Eraser and your L5 spinal disc begging for mercy, you realize the fucking baseboards aren’t just dirty. They’re demonic. Sticky and filthy on purpose. A low-level succubus in satin latex paint, luring you back again and again and again under the false promise of “just a quick wipe down.” But the truth is, every time you kneel to scrub, they siphon off another piece of your soul—your goals, your creative drive, your 3 a.m. edible induced novel plot breakthroughs. Every one of your dreams swiftly devoured in exchange for marginally brighter trim and a little less adhered cat hair. And by the time you notice the hollow look in your eyes and the shriveled husk of your ambition that no amount of botox can smooth out, it’s August 21st already, and those writing deadlines? All dead. Along with your will to do anything other than buy more sponges and spiral deeper into the “Baseboard Covenant”. Woof.

Outside of the baseboard issue, life beats you in the knees with the “never-ending task” mallet and it feels impossible to break the cycle. And I know… trust me I know, that I am not the only person feeling this way. Many of us are juggling so many hats, broken bottles, responsibilities, health issues, the need to keep IV waste and their lemon scented disinfectant in the quarter (my locals know that inference), daquiris, bills, illnesses, slow service industry season, and many, many more pieces of chaos along the way just hoping for something to give. When there’s a constant pressure that comes with feeling the need to complete all the tasks or else, how can one not feel depleted and meh? I’m often left pondering if this constantly bogged down existence is specific to an age group/generation or if it’s just that the world as it is now requires SO much just to survive it and to do so in a way that will serve both your family and your needs. Many friends in my circle work 2-3 jobs/side hustles to help offset the rent, grocery prices, and insurance costs, and even my very financially advanced friends are managing their homes and time differently than they ever had before. Life be life-ing real hard these days across the board for everyone,me thinks. I’m just here venting because I can and because I tell myself it makes my emotions feel a bit less unruly. But, I suppose it’s also so I can take a moment to acknowledge the fact that it’s easy for all of that never-ending responsibility shit to take first chair and really, it’s up to us shift that around in whatever way serves us best.

To come full circle back to my opening statement to prove a point that likely does not need any amount of proving, I made a real conscious effort to put all distracting items elsewhere so I could just put words on this screen today. I felt determined. I believed I was steadfast. But, what did I do the literal second I sat down here with my glass of cheap rosé in the horrible silence only broken by fat cat snores? I tried to start working on the budget for next month. And then, I noticed the chewy coupon that is going to expire soon and remembered that I do need to order more food for the cats so that they don’t run out while we’re away in September. Before I knew it, ass was out of chair and I was hobbling my hobbit shaped self to the coffee table to fetch my planner and that damn chewy coupon too. I made it back to the dining room with discount code in hand before something snapped me out of the obligatory life hole that I allow myself to fall in day after day after day after month after year. And somehow, for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself the grace to unhand the coupon, put the planner back on the table, and place a pillow over the budget binder. I got to ask myself the question that I so often pose to other folks who are feeling the same way which is simply “what will actually die if you don’t do it today”. Because truly, some things may. But many, many things will not. If you don’t pay your car note and it’s due today, your credit may die and that’s an issue. If you don’t refill your insulin, you may die and that’s an issue. If no one in the house has eaten yet today and you’re the usual cook in the fam, the kid’s will make you believe they’re dying and that’s an issue. Same with the pets. But, that one closet everyone knows you don’t open unless it’s an emergency because the shit will fall out like a landslide and crush you or the deep cleaning of the oven before company comes over just in case someone looks in there, are not priorities. No one and nothing will die if it doesn’t get done today. The landscaping can wait too. Fuck them neighbors if they think you’re a derelict and not worthy of the pristinely weeded block. No one will die in your house if it doesn’t get done but perhaps it’s possible that neighbor Ethel will throw a clot if she has to look at your ungroomed patch of front grass for yet another day. But that sounds like a her and her overzealous platelets sort of problem.

All of this to say, sitting down to write this was an exercise in mental triage. Yes, that to do list is here haunting me and yes, I may feel guilty taking time for myself when there are so many other things to do. But my god, if I don’t feel much better now for having sat down to do it and this was a shit ton more fun than working on next month’s budget. So friends, take time for yourselves and the things that genuinely bring you joy and peace. Don’t get bogged down in the bullshit and for the love of god, do not clean the baseboards by yourselves ever again. Hire a horrible person who has well deserved karma coming their way to do it instead. Let their dreams and happiness get succubus-ed by those assholes. Life goes too damn fast to be eaten alive by a decorative piece of wood whose only goal is to kill your joy.

Because if we’ve learned anything from this mess of ramblings, it’s that baseboards are a menace.