February 22, 2012 by Kat Richter
I have issues with tissues. And socks. And tampons for that matter. As in I never remember to buy them—any of them— and whenever I find myself in need (by which I mean dire need) I end up wandering around the house, raiding various closets and pantries while ranting, “Why hasn’t anyone bought any f*cking tissues/socks/tampons?”
It never occurs to me that I could simply purchase my own tissues/socks/tampons until I’m stumbling around with cold feet and a runny nose and really, who wants to go to Target then?
I have been to no less than seven drug stores in the past week (mainly in order to acquire the best pick of the half-priced Valentine’s Day candy) and not once did I remember to buy tissues.
Nor did I think to pick up some extra socks while I was raiding the half price bins at Target.
(What can I say? Chocolate is generally the main motivation behind any and all trips out of the house.)
Instead, I keep “borrowing” socks from my mom and anxiously awaiting the days till next Christmas when Santa will, as he has done every year for the past 26 years of my life, buy me new socks.
It’s pathetic when you think about it. Especially now that dating a man who owns his own house and his own car and seems quite capable of buying his own socks. I’m like that loser roommate who always takes everyone else’s things and doesn’t replace them, except that it in this case, my roommates are my parents and having had more than my fair share of “loser roommates” over the years, I should know better by now.
It’s not that I’m too cheap to buy my own socks or to contribute to the communal stash of tissues once in a while—I somehow managed to keep myself clothed, shoed and un-congested whilst living abroad—it’s just that I don’t think about any of these things when I’m out.
And when I’m not out, I’d rather blow my nose on paper towels than leave my desk to run errands.
I suppose I could blame this on being somewhat “artistic” in temperament (at least that’s what The Wedding Date decided to do when he first observed my “organized chaos” approach to interior design) but I think I’m just scatterbrained.
Of course, the two—being scatterbrained and being artistic—might be related, but I’m pretty sure there is something wrong with my brain that keeps me from processing things like, “Hmm… no more socks again? Should probably buy more socks.”
What do you think? Am I alone in my domestic inadequacies or are there some things that you just consistently forget to buy?