So here’s the deal: At some point, my goal is to once again post regularly here.
Maybe. Probably. Likely. Soon. But later.
A lot has happened in the last few months, which many of you know if you’re friends with me on Facebook.
But seriously. A lot has happened. Like this, at the end of last year:
So there I was, driving like normal, streaming my Milli Vanilli Spotify playlist with the moonroof open, when a dude driving the other direction ran a red light and t-boned me going full speed. One lacerated liver, broken nose, two seriously fucked up legs and an ankle later, and I had earned enough points for a free stay in the hospital — plus enough CT scans, MRIs and X-rays to make me glow in the dark.
But wasn’t it purty?
I could just look at these pictures all day. Ahhh, the memories. Good times.
But the dude? He walked away completely uninjured.
Of COURSE he did. And of COURSE the Universe decided to have some fun with me. Because his first name: Darwin.
Not even kidding.
Yup. The guy who coined the term “survival of the fittest” and the dude who literally walked away from a car accident that seriously injured me totally share the same name.
Oh, silly Universe, you crack me up!
Anyhow, TBH, I’m mentally and physically exhausted from insurance companies and orthopedists and EOBs and tests and discoveries like “oh, by the way, there’s likely a piece of metal air bag shrapnel floating over your kneecap.” All of this has seriously cut into my already spectacularly abundant single mommy “me” time, but I’m working on finding my rhythm again. But until I’m fully back in the proverbial saddle of regular posting and sharing the insider view of my hilarity-riddle life, I’m taking itty-bitty baby steps toward that goal by writing elsewhere.
And speaking of baby: Mine likes to fuck with me. I mean really, truly mess with my head.
Want to read a little about it? Here’s the latest.
And if you need extra convincing to click the link, here’s a teaser: In this post, you’ll learn that reverse pooping is a thing, plus you’ll discover the AWESOME name my toddler has given to a baby doll that is creepy as fuck.
Spoiler alert: It rhymes with “Prickly Fireman.”
(Quick aside: I literally never realized my name rhymes with Prickly Fireman until just now. Seriously. That’s kinda cool.)
Anyhow, feel free to share my toddler story with any parents you may know, because I think this whole “terrible 2” thing is a total scam and unsuspecting parents have a right to know that they’re all conspiring against us.
Oh, and one more thing: I miss you all.