My morning commute isn't just a drive to work.

It's a carefully curated montage of triumph and adversity, scored by an epic instrumental, where every red light is a dramatic pause, and arriving at the office feels like the triumphant final scene of a blockbuster.

I tried meditating this morning, like my wellness app suggested.

Five minutes in, my brain was just a frantic PowerPoint presentation of every undone chore, forgotten email, and questionable life choice I've ever made.

He told me he was looking for a woman with 'no drama,' who was just 'easygoing and chill'.

Then he spent twenty minutes complaining about his ex, his boss, and the barista who gave him oat milk instead of almond.

I've realized I essentially have two completely separate wardrobes now.

There's the 'present me' wardrobe, which is 90% comfortable leggings and oversized sweaters. And then there's the 'aspirational me' wardrobe, full of tailored blouses and impractical heels, patiently waiting for a life I'm apparently too busy or tired to live.