you should see the bottom of my purse right now. for anyone who thinks i have my life together--or ever, at any point in time, had my life together--you should see the bottom of my purse. goldfish. cracked and smashed and week-old, forgotten goldfish. of the cheddar persuasion--you know, the kind eight year olds eat? yes, week-old goldfish that i haven't had the energy or time to take care of just sitting there, mucking up my purse and everything in it.
muck feels like a good word for my life right now.
stuck in the muck. the mud. (actually, i got a few other choice words for it, but i'll refrain).
tom, i'm in it right now, i said this morning when i saw him.
you are?
yes, look, i said pulling out my purse and brandishing its contents like a...like a something. i don't know.
life made manifest in the form of a littered purse.
you should see my room. my apartment.
shambles.
tom took a good look at it, looked at me, you know everyone should have some weeks when the bottom of their purse is little more than littered goldfish.
i sure as hell hope he's right. he usually is.