Sound advice

Gentle reader, if you are regular follower of this blog (all four of you!) you are probably expecting another post about my daily wardrobe challenges and triumphs. I am breaking form this morning to write the first (and maybe last) entry wherein I offer some sound advice and demonstrate why it is a good thing I am not a parent.

If you find yourself having a day, we'll call it yesterday, in which you work for 12 hours, 11 of which are filled with people yelling at you and papercuts, you may think it is a good idea to go home and drink all the beers you have in the refrigerator. After which you may try to take your mind off your troubles by playing Bejewled Blitz on Facebook until you get carpal tunnel. Then you may find yourself wide awake at midnight with a sore wrist and poor decision making skills and a bottle of Advil PM in arms reach. Five hours later after a dream involving you, Robert Pattinson, and a tricycle, you will wake up, put on the clothing you find on the floor and head to the donut store where you order 6 donuts but get 6 free and find yourself a few hours later in a haze of self loathing with crumbs in your bra prattling on about your misadventures on your vanity blog.

Advice: Don't be me.