On Tuesday

We brought home the cat and then I burnt the bacon. I set off the smoke alarm and the house smelled like fire.  We fought because you have to tell me the simplest things over and over and over again. The cat slept between your legs and I stayed up watching the shadows on the wall. I can't stop thinking about how to be better, how to drill into my mind that the mistakes I'm making are mistakes I can't make again. My work feels like a teenager: gangly, awkward, easily influenced. I know I have it in me, but why is it so hard to get it right?

currently

listening to this

reading this 

eating these cookies