Tales of a Secret Rockstar

I didn't want to have to do this so early on in the experiment, but it just worked out that way. It's not because I'm desparate for topics. Because I'm not. So take your scoffing somewhere else.

I spilled juice all over our stairs today. Luckily the carpet isn't all that pretty or nice, but still, we had quite the cleaning job on our hands. It was a powerade -with the lid on - but it managed to fall out of my hand, break open, and run down the stairs. I was frustrated, which is odd. You would think after consistently dropping and spilling so many things in my life, I'd get used to it or something. Apparently not. It still drives me crazy. Maybe I should have blogged about it two years ago or so. I might have found some kind of cathartic healing for my scatterbraininess (don't bother checking your dictionary, that's a real word. I promise). Alas, here I am: 25, married, and still a spilling, tripping over things, kicking through walls that are actually curtains, mess. Also, that may have been one of my worst sentences. Go back through the archives, prove me wrong!

Anyways, that's that story for the day. Tomorrow I'll probably make fun of myself for writing the insignificant details of my life today. I think insignificance killed casual blogging.