I'm a disaster slug.
Hey Mom! So this week everything went off the rails... my room is a disaster, my backpack is a disaster, the counter is a disaster, the floor is a disaster, my notes are a disaster, and my desktop is a disaster. This is just what you can see from the door way but it's pretty much a minefield. What you can't see is the pound of crumbs that cushions all my books with greasy tenderness Please note to 2 dozen minimized windows. Basically I'm like a slug except I leave disaster in my wake instead of slime (although I've been sick all week so that's not untrue either). Now, I know what you're thinking: Mack, how can you live like this? Well, sometimes I walk around with my eyes closed so I don't have to deal with egregious nature of my mess making. I know it's weird but sometimes I find messes comforting, it's like an extension of my internal stress. So I take a look at the mess and think Yep, that's how I feel... finally a clus