I was running late for work and spilled coffee all over my shirt, so I

decided to monologue about the meaninglessness of modern life as I stood there, coffee dripping down my legs, because if I'm going to be a hot mess, I'm going to be a cinematic hot mess.

I just spent twenty minutes drafting an email to a male colleague about a simple project update.

Not because the content was complex, but because I had to make sure I sounded collaborative, not bossy, and then added three exclamation points so I didn't seem cold.

My car made a weird noise this morning, and I immediately knew I needed to get it looked at.

But before I could even *think* about calling the mechanic, I had to Google 'weird car noises women need to know about,' then 'how to sound like I know what I'm talking about to a mechanic,' and finally 'what to wear so they don't try to upsell me on blinker fluid.'

My biggest life goal isn't buying a house or traveling the world.

It's finding a pair of women's jeans with pockets deep enough that my phone doesn't look like it's trying to make a daring escape every time I sit down.