8 a.m. This would have been a nice and good hour to rise had I not been up until nearly 2 with some vague fuckery. I laid in bed and contemplated grocery shopping. There are zero bread-type products in my house. No bagels. No bread. No English muffins. Nothing. So despite my groggy state, I dragged myself out of bed and donned clothes. It wasn’t until I wheeled into the local Cub that it struck me that it was Mother’s Day. Because I am not a sadist, I peeled outta there and got myself an Egg McMuffin and some coffee. Foraging for food would have to wait for another day.

9:30ish a.m. Poking around the Internet I wonder when Mother’s Day became so emotionally fraught. Maybe it always was and I never noticed it. I mean, I always knew Mother’s Day made me feel worthless for never having the good sense to grow a human being in my body or get one through other legal means, but I thought that was just me being selfish and bratty. And it kind of is.

And I tried to ponder a bit why Mother’s Day is so rough for me. Maybe it’s regret. Maybe it’s just sour grapes-like “Why is there no White History Month?” kind of bullshit because there’s no “single, childless woman taking care of herself” day and if you say every day is that day I will sock you in the nose. Though I do kind of get that. Also I wonder, is Father’s Day as emotionally fraught for people? Are there dudes filled with regret and melancholy? Or maybe not because they can jizz out kids until they’re like a hundred.

I decide to blame all this boo-hooeyness on lack of sleep and promptly curled up on the couch with Lauren Groff’s upcoming Fates and Furies. At some point I nodded off, and when I woke up about 45 minutes later I decided a real nap was in order.

10:45ish a.m. I crash into bed, and turn on It’s a Long Story: My Life, Willie Nelson’s autobio that I am listening to. It’s making me all swoony. Willie talks about music so beautifully and so passionately that I have to resist the urge to tweet every other line from the book. I fail at this a lot.

So as I waited for nap #2 to overtake me I pondered last night’s fuckery which involved a dude I was supposed to meet for coffee like three weeks ago. An hour or so before he totally bailed on some trumped up excuse about a work emergency. Whatever, right? It could happen. But then dude disappears for, well, three weeks until about midnight last night when he’s all up in my email with the hi, how are you?

Fuck that noise. I would like to say this is the first time this has happened. But I’ve gotten to the almost meeting point with a few dudes only to have them disappear. I think I missed my magical calling. Also, I wish I had better control over this gift because there’s a few people I’d like to disappear into a cornfield but can’t seem to no matter how much I try.

So now he’s all “I really want to meet you.” And I’m all “YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE!”

I don’t know what the hell my problem is. Either I have a knack for attracting cowards or, fuck, if I know. Not only does dating suck, attempting to date is equal in the suckage.

2ish p.m. I woke from the second nap ravenous and quickly downed some leftover pasta and asparagus. Then I settled in with “Sabrina” the Audrey Hepburn version on Movie! and chatted with some friends while pondering taking another nap.

9:10 p.m. Family Dinner with the fam was good. We got Mamala a Fitbit and she’s excited as hell about it. She’s a nerdy gamer deep down. Also, I had a small victory when she went on endlessly about a how hilarious the sassy comment I made to Sister #3’s schmoopy Facebook post was. It was worth the death glares from Sister #3. Totally worth it.

Now I am home fielding emails and text messages from men who want to “cuddle” with me but do not care at all what I think about anything at all. I’ve discovered I’m “exotic” because of my size which means men want to get all up in my business, but have zero interest in actually knowing what my business is about. Bleh.