I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. Like, at all. This morning alone, I hit the snooze button no less than thirteen times before getting out of bed, and let’s be real, I only really gave in because I had to pee and I figured pissing my sheets would be more trouble than it was worth on a Tuesday afternoon. And yes, before you ask, I have in fact considered peeing my bed rather than standing up and walking fifteen feet to use the toilet, and the day I decide doing laundry is less work than walking to the bathroom is the day we’re all in a hell of a lot of trouble. And sure, I managed to put on sweatpants and walk to the deli across the street to order a breakfast sandwich, a muffin, and a chocolate milk, but only before I dragged it all back to my apartment, climbed back into bed, and stuffed it all in my face seconds before falling back asleep for another three and a half hours.

This, my friends, is what I consider a productive day.

Here is my truth. I’m Matt. I’m twenty-six. And I’m terrible at being a functioning, self-sufficient, adult member of society. If they gave out awards for being bad at growing up—like Most Likely to Eat a Frozen Dinner That’s Still Frozen Because He Couldn’t Wait the Full Four Minutes for the Microwave to Finish—I probably would’ve won a whole bunch of them by now, but then again, they’d probably make me show up somewhere to accept them, and then I’d have to shower and put on deodorant, and probably wear a bow tie and cuff links, and the thought of doing just one of those things is exhausting enough. Also, I don’t even know how to tie a bow tie and I don’t really know what cuff links are supposed to do, so my talent for being horrible at adulthood will probably go unrecognized forever. Unless they send me the award in the mail, in which case, I’ll totally accept it, but only if I don’t have to sign for the package, because I don’t like opening the door for the UPS man, since he’s usually unreasonably attractive and my eyes are usually still boogered shut from sleeping until four o’clock in the afternoon. But I will absolutely pick it up from the doorway once he leaves.