My cat just knocked over a vase and shattered it on the floor.

I immediately started narrating the scene in my head, a detached, melancholic voice-over, musing on the fragility of beauty and the chaos of existence, as if I were in a French art house film.

Some guys on dating apps say they want a woman who's 'natural,' 'doesn't wear too much makeup,' 'low maintenance.'

But then you show up without a full glam squad and they look at you like you're an uncooked potato.

I just spent 20 minutes staring blankly at my fridge.

Not because I was hungry, but because I was calculating the optimal day to buy groceries based on expiring coupons, my work schedule, and the lunar cycle.

My co-worker just casually asked if I had any fun weekend plans.

Now my brain is frantically trying to decide if 'binge-watching a show in pajamas' sounds impressively chill or pathetically unaccomplished.