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Ice cream for dinner is the adult thing to do

Why, hello old friends. That is if you still come visit round these parts.

I didn’t really know what to do with this corner of the internet any more and every time I came back, it felt like a false start. Why should I write anything? I’m not really an expert at anything “lifestyle”. I dropped out of fashion school and I’ve been wearing winged eyeliner since the day I discovered liquid eyeliner was a thing. If we were talking, there would likely be lipstick on my teeth from the funny way I talk.

I’m only a novice crafter and a horrible house keeper. I don’t have 25 ways to organize your entire life.

photo of a neon sign that says "this must be the place"

I have clutter on the coffee table and a sink full of dirty dishes. Although I did make my bed today. I went to the fridge to heat up some dinner only to discover that I actually finished my leftovers yesterday. Cecelia the cat might tell you that I don’t feed her early enough in the morning and that I’m so terrible because sometimes she can see the bottom of the bowl peeking through.

I’m so not a morning person and I have the Uber receipts to prove it.

I ate ice cream with magic shell for dinner. With moon cheese for dessert.

What I’m trying to say is that, as much as I want to be, I’m no beaming pillar of adulthood. And giving life hacks or style tips felt…disingenuous at best and patronizing at worst.

I miss the writing. I miss #cakesonatrain and #singleladysupper. That desire to create again, paired with some encouragement from a friend to share more of my story, has brought me back here. So maybe you’ll get some tips for upping your adulting game, or maybe you can find solace that you weren’t the only one who resorted to ice cream for dinner.

I can’t wait to see where this new path takes us.

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