No one likes you.
Is there water in the basement of the rental house?
What’s the APR on my credit cards?
Your career is a lie.
Wait, you have no career, dummy.
Good thing you got that PhD.
I should go on a meditation retreat.
Remember to send that email in the morning.
You should write that down.
Nah, I’ll remember.
The email the email the email. Don’t forget! You’ll get in trouble.
In trouble? What am I, a third grader?
You wouldn’t know. You skipped third grade.
Remember Mr. Brown your 8th grade teacher? He had a baby shoe on his key ring and when a bully dared Michael Gideon to ask why he carried around a baby shoe, Mr. Brown said it was because his baby son died and that’s how he remembers that his son is always with him but you were stupid kids who didn’t understand grief and now you’re just realizing that’s the saddest story you ever heard.
Mental note: Google whatever happened to your junior high best friend Matt.
It’s a good thing I have an SUV that’s paid off in case we lose the houses and have to live out of our car. It’s roomier than the Impreza.
I was sleeping so well earlier this week—what happened?
You should Tweet these thoughts like Troy McClure. Hi, I’m prolonged insomnia. You may remember me from such intrusive thoughts as “No One Likes You” and “I’m Glad the SUV Is Paid Off In Case I Have to Live Out of My Car.”
It’s time for a social media break. That’s why you’re so miserable.
I’ve never had one of those 10-minute orgasms I hear about on the Internet.
If I go to sleep right now I can get 3 hours of sleep.
Who came up with time anyway? Like, why don’t I just get up and write if I’m going to be up anyway? Why do I have to force myself to try and sleep and then feel bad about not sleeping when I could feel good about writing?
I don’t think I’m cut out for motherhood after all.
I should read more poetry.
I love early sunrises but I hate bird chirping keeping me up.
Wait, I was already up.
I wonder if I can go the whole weekend without drinking.
When was the last time we washed the sheets?
Should I find out what to do with a dog’s body if they die at home before I need this information? Would the vet think that’s weird?
If you forget to send that email I swear to God…
I should read Eat, Pray Love.