I cannot find the time to unpack the suitcase that’s been sitting near the front door for more than a week now.
I got back from an out-of-town weekend and immediately dropped my suitcase in the hallway between my front door and my living room, so whenever I walked past it this week (estimated 54,000 times), I literally have to walk over the suitcase.
Also, if someone can move the suitcase when you’re done unloading it, I would pay you my gratitude, which is worth more than money.
That dumb bag stares at me, pleading with my to bite the bullet—gather up all my clothes in one scoop and neatly cram the items into random drawers. But what my suitcase doesn’t understand is that my schedule is filled to the brim with important tasks.
Every morning, I have sleep through my phone alarm only to wake up an hour later to and scroll through Instagram. Then I have to post a story, telling everyone to seize the day and get a workout in. Then, I murmur, “tomorrow” as I walk past my running shoes to the kitchen.
Next, I quickly make my breakfast—black coffee, cigarettes, and peanut butter—to fuel my hours of scrolling through Facebook, looking for parents to insult.
After work, I have to come home and lay down on my couch with one leg hanging off so that I can watch Jersey Shore YouTube videos while the baseball game on TV provides white noise.
I do that for about five hours, complain how I don’t get enough sleep, and then stare at my all-white phone screen for two additional hours before passing out from a concussion caused by light pollution.
So, it’s evident that I am too busy to unpack my suitcase of two shirts, a pant, an old tooth brush I didn’t initially pack for my trip, several quarters, and the one good suit I have. I am looking to hire immediately and pay will be haggled over on your completion. The starting point is a QT pizza slice and five single dollar bills that are so crumpled up they feel like lint and might not—legally—be considered legal tender anymore.