BREAKING NEWS FROM THE FERAL HOUSECAT HEADQUARTERS…
Absolutely nothing has changed. 😂
Same shit.
Different day.
Different level of caffeine deficiency.
HOWEVER…
✨ I DID clean my kitchen yesterday.
AND…
✨ I made all the food for the 4th of July.
Which means I have officially unlocked one of the rarest achievements known to motherhood…
**A CLEAN KITCHEN.**
I work at MY JOB on Sunday…
BUT THEN…
Peeps…
I have an ENTIRE WEEK…
AN ENTIRE…
FREAKING…
WEEK…
…with a CLEAN KITCHEN.
Do you know what kind of dangerous power you’ve just handed me?
By Wednesday there will be made from scratch cinnamon rolls.
Thursday? Maybe lemon blueberry cheesecake.
Friday? Homemade bread.
Saturday? I don’t know…I might wake up possessed by Betty Crocker’s ghost and start making croissants from scratch because apparently I hate free time.
My Pinterest board is about to become legally responsible for my actions.
Matter of fact…
Should I just make one of those fancy online sign-up sheets?
☕ Coffee & Chaos with Heather.
Appointment slots available.
Today’s menu:
✔ Shitty coffee.
✔ Homemade desserts.
✔ Me talking for three hours about absolutely nothing while somehow ending up discussing raccoons, the Roman Empire, why squirrels are sketchy, and why I think every recipe secretly needs more garlic.
Come witness my life unfold in real time.
It’s basically a live nature documentary.
*”Here we see the Midwestern Feral Housecat in her natural habitat…avoiding phone calls…collecting kitchen gadgets…and wandering from room to room because she forgot what she stood up for.”*
Speaking of habitats…
I AM ALWAYS HOME.
And before somebody comments…
“Girl you need to get out more!”
ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Every single time I leave my house…
It costs roughly…
$1,213.11.
Gas.
Coffee.
“Oh I’ll just stop at Walmart for ONE THING.”
Lies.
LIES.
Nobody has EVER walked into Walmart for one thing and left with JUST that thing.
You leave with a seasonal candle, dog or cat snacks…
a shower curtain you weren’t looking for…
an air fryer cookbook despite being an actual chef who doesn’t need cookbooks…
and somehow sixty-eight dollars worth of snacks.
I don’t make the rules.
So I stay home.
Because I’ve spent YEARS carefully curating this little slice of heaven.
It smells good.
Everything in here is MY favorite.
My blankets are fluffy.
My couch knows the exact shape of my butt.
The lighting is immaculate.
The snacks are within walking distance.
Strangers can’t talk to me because they don’t know the password to get inside!
And there are designated “Heather Zones” where my children and husband know if they cross the invisible line while I’m drinking coffee, they better have either a severed limb or a million dollars.
Otherwise…
Respectfully…
Get back.
I LOVE my house.
It’s my emotional support building.
Speaking of emotional damage…
Remember when I told you guys I found my dream house?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…
Anyway.
Turns out she needs WAYYYYYYY more work than we can afford.
She’s like me.
Pretty cute.
Needs therapy.
Expensive to maintain.
So Matt and I are just gonna keep working our asses off and hopefully someday buy the house we’ve lived in for 17 years.
SEVENTEEN.
At this point I’m basically emotionally attached to the drywall.
The Blue Valley program was SUPPOSED to help us be ready buy this place.
Instead…
For years…
Apparently they had people running it who treated the instructions more like “creative suggestions.”
So now they’re finally doing things correctly.
Which is awesome.
Just would’ve been cooler…
I don’t know… SIXTEEN YEARS AGO.
Now we’re trying to fix our credit as quickly as possible.
Trying to save money.HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…
I transferred FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS into savings Last Friday.
I felt responsible.
Financially mature.
Like one of those adults that owns matching bra and panties sets.
Approximately one hour later…
*”Hey babe…”*
Immediately followed by…
*”I’m gonna need to move some of that back…”*
Cool.
Love that for us.
Current financial update…
Savings:
💰 $1.00
Checking:
💰 $1.62
Grand total…
$2.62.
Peeps…
I have seen toddlers with more financial freedom than me!
Matt doesn’t get paid until next Friday.
And before somebody says…
“Apply for assistance!”
NOPE.
We make…
✨TOO MUCH MONEY.✨
Which is fascinating.
Because if anyone sees all this extra money we’re apparently making…
PLEASE SEND HER HOME.
SHE DOESN’T LIVE HERE.
I genuinely want rich people to explain themselves.
How do you ALWAYS have money??
Do your bills just…
…not attack you?
Does your refrigerator refill itself?
Do your tires not randomly decide today’s the day?
Is your check engine light just…
…respectful?
Teach me your ways.
I’m tired.
Also…
Targeted ads are WILD.
Every single one starts with…
“Do you wake up tired?”
YES bitch I DO!
“Do your joints hurt?”
ALSO YES. DUH
“Do you occasionally forget why you walked into a room?”
I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT ROOM WE’RE TALKING ABOUT.
And suddenly I’m convinced I have seventeen vitamin deficiencies, low magnesium, adrenal fatigue, ancient curses, and a haunted pancreas.
Now…
I usually DON’T buy the stuff.
Because…
Again…
*$2.62.*
BUT.
I DID try that mushroom coffee.
Friends.
It tastes exactly how I’d imagine licking the rows in the corn feild behind a Tractor Supply after it rains.
Absolutely foul.
Negative twelve stars.
Save your money.
Go to an Asian grocery store.
Find the tiny grandma/grandpa that’s worked there since dinosaurs.
Tell them what you’re trying to fix.
That woman/man knows plants.
They’ll hand you something for eighteen dollars that’ll probably solve six problems you didn’t even know you had.
basically a wizard.
Meanwhile…
The tents.
…
Still.
Not.
Folded.
I don’t wanna!
Every time I look at them I pretend they’re invisible.
Maybe if I ignore them long enough they’ll migrate south for the winter. They are just gonna live in my trunks until I DO WANNA!
Today’s agenda?
Absolutely nothing.
And let me tell you…
I have EARNED this absolutely nothing.
Well…
Until the York fireworks tonight.
Now somebody make ONE decision for me because my brain has officially clocked out.
🍝 Chicken Parmesan?
🥩 Philly Cheesesteaks?
Or do I wander aimlessly through my kitchen opening the refrigerator every six minutes hoping a fully cooked meal magically appears like I’m in a Disney movie?
Asking for me!…and the refrigerator, who’s getting real tired of seeing my face every twelve minutes.
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