We at the nation of Keep Your Shit Together are out of wine, ha ha.

This is what is called a “hard reset.” If you drink, oh, an entire bottle of red wine or an equivalent mixture of red and white wines, you will be very drunk, you will grouse to your friends about your life or your lack of a love life or whatever the constant minor misery that endlessly plagues you both on its own and because you cannot just get over it already is, and then you will wake up feeling better.

If you actually have a life, by which I mean you have people to meet somewhere on Friday nights or, well, ever, this may not work. But it probably will.

I seem to have: made a text message pact with my friend J. to get married if we’re both still miserable in fifteen years; spent several hours talking to my roommate about God only knows what, but I think we’re, you know, friendlier now, instead of just related; smoked one of her cigarettes; made something that I remember was delicious, but I don’t really remember eating; sent a picture of the empty wine bottle to E. on Snapchat with a caption I also can’t remember but seemed to at least be along the theme I’d been using for the rest of the day, so let’s hope that was non-awful; tried to convince the cat to stop lurking in the dining room crying under a chair and to instead actually come all the way into the kitchen and be sociable; and gone to bed at nineish feeling not entirely terrible about myself.

Generally when I get drunk first I get really sad, or some version of mopey, or something, and then I manage to convince myself that I’m cute and witty and so will not die alone. I have sent J. some version of this text message probably twelve times. Poor J.

A reasonably successful endeavor, anyway. Well done me. Cookies for everyone. Except not, because I don’t have any.