Smooshed up poptarts

My life feels like it is spiraling further into chaos with each passing day.

What makes this so sad is that my own personal & work lives are actually not chaotic. Other people's chaos is bleeding over into my life, dripping their unmanageability and disease all over me and my Mr. Sunshine.

I can't find the banquette seating at our dining table because it is buried under mounds of god-knows-what. I can't remember the last time I actually SAW the carpeting on the bottom of my trunk, and the random collection of shoes in the front of my car has become so random as to be bizarre. Laundry? HA.

Normally, all those things are pretty well handled. However, when Mr. Sunshine and I are expending so much energy (that we don't have to spare) dealing with others' unmanageability, it leaves no time for our daily routines.

This is the downside of loving hard, I guess.

Lunch today is a smooshed up package of poptarts that I found in my car while looking for scantrons for that business law exam I did not study for. I'm sure it isn't too far off to guess that these pathetic, crumbly poptarts have been in my car since Miranda Lambert played our arena, which would have been at least a week ago (feels like 11 months ago in doggie days). These poptarts have probably been sat on by my dog and stepped on by my favorite truck loader and smooshed by my book bag and thrown by me and run over by @Reshaud's tire and I'm also sure that they have lived inside a mustard colored suede Jessica Simpson pump for at least half of the week they've been in my car.

I just wanna know what the fuck they use in this poptart frosting to keep it from melting when it lives inside a closed-up car in 90+ degree heat for over a week without melting, because that shit probably preserve me from the inside better than Diet Dr. Pepper does.

These fucking smooshed up poptarts are pathetically sad. I want to cry.

I won't cry, though. Tomorrow, I am running away from home. My sister is in Dallas on vacation, and I am driving over to take her to lunch. I need a break. One that doesn't involve household chores (although I need a break that includes that, too). And maybe, just maybe, I'll drop in over at H&M while I'm in town, because Dallas finally got one and I've never shopped there before.

Until tomorrow, me and my pathetic little smooshed up poptarts are going to get me through what is left of today.