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Hi cuties. (I wonder how I would respond if someone consistently called me "cutie" and "sweetheart" and "kiddo" and "sexy." I bet I would be pretty pissed off. I apologize, babydolls.) Half a cup of dark Italian espresso later and I am READY TO UNLEASH THE MONKEY MIND. Dark Italian... That describes my dream man. Kidding. My dream man is Tilda Swinton. Speaking of dreams, I had yet another dream last night about walking around an abandoned amusement park and being compelled to ride all of the rides, even if they were totally unsafe and haunted by the ghosts of sideshow freaks. I rode all of the rides and... And I can't really remember what happened because I got up a bajillion times to pee. I hate that because a) it is annoying, b) I can never really "return" to my dreams, c) it makes me super sleepy the next day, d) I forget what D was, e) it makes me super worried that I have some funky bladder problem that will result in my untimely death. BUT that just means I can haunt roller coasters with the bearded lady. I think that's a win.

Okay, the coffee has worn off. Now I need a million-year nap in a million hammocks. How would that be possible? Someone would have to periodically move an unconscious me from hammock to hammock until I successfully napped in 1,000,000 hammocks. Who would be willing to do such a job? Would I need to pay this person? Can I, as an unemployed and chronically lazy Millennial, afford to provide a salary + benefits to a very generous and physically fit human to do this job? I guess only time and my dreams and Facebook comments will tell. Remember MySpace bulletins? I do, vaguely. I remember writing a ton of them after drinking whiskey with someone I loved. Those were the golden days, back when I was a selfish, selfish drunk who was hopelessly in love with all the wrong people. Now I am just a selfish, selfish sober 31-year-old college graduate with a temperamental bladder who is hopelessly in love with a non-dark, non-Italian Tilda Swinton.

Ugh, the coffee has worn back on. Now I need a million side projects to do all at the same time. Can side projects become main projects? Is my life made up of coffee spoons and never-even-attempted side projects? I have ideas, I have lists. All I need to do is jump in the cart, lower the safety bar, and ride that ride. In time, in time. The time is now! Where do I start? I start by giving everything away except for, like, a kaftan and a toothbrush, and clearing out space. I subtract so I can add. I want to add experiences, moments, peace of mind. Less stuff, more naps. Less stuff, more hopeless romances. Less stuff, more time. Less coffffffeeeeeeee, more breakfast. I will see you when I see you. Let's connect. Let's be cuties together.