Life Hacks


I started this project as something of a whim. I really like to write. This seemed like a fun outlet. If nothing else, a mini-diversion for the holiday season.

Also, I have this one friend. She always tells me she wants me to blog again. I love this friend. A lot. I am inclined to do this project for her, if no one else.

So, I open this up on Facebook and (to date) I’ve received exactly 31 requests for 31 days of December posts. I have exactly one (1) (uno) (ichi) (wahad) topic for which I have not a G.D. clue what to write about.

The request is from that friend. The, hey, please blog again, friend. I am ashamed. I feel that I have failed. She wants a post on life hacks. And I have drawn a blank.

In a moment of pure desperation, I demand of the sous-chef (otherwise known as husband number one), “What life hacks do we use around this house?!” Hand wringing included. He assures me, “No problem, I saw an article that’s perfect for this.”

Sous-chef’s article:

Life Hacks

I read the article and several times have this reaction, “Huh, that’s pretty clever.” More often, I have this reaction, “You must be kidding. Who has time for this nonsense?” And then I realize. I have my post.

You are fine. Your life is fine. Your house is fine. Your cupboards are fine. Your fridge is fine. Your messy ass desk is fine. Your sloppy, unorganized, Barbies and Legos on every free surface kids’ rooms are fine. You closet with mismatched shoes and silks with wools and short and long sleeves all mixed up is fine. Your spouse or your housemate is fine. Your dog is fine.

Stop criticizing the shit out of yourself. If you’re reading this, there’s 99.9% chance that you’re my Facebook friend and I know you personally. And you know what? I think you’re more than fine. I think you’re fucking awesome. If I don’t know you personally, I’m willing to bet you’re pretty darn awesome.

You don’t need life hacks. You need life. You need to love. And drink. And swim. And pet your cat. And tickle your kid. And watch reruns of Modern Family. And work too hard some days and beg off at 2 pm on others. And giggle. Fucking giggle as much as you possibly can.

I don’t care if the wires behind your TV are tangled. Or, that the unsealed bag of rice in your kitchen has spilled all over the floor. You know what I’ll think if I walk into your house and see that? “Thank god… she/he is too busy too. I’m not the only one living in chaos.” And after I walk into your house and see your obvious and desperate lack of life hacks, I hope we hop in my car and go somewhere to have a stupid amount of fun.

Because that’s how you hack life.

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