You ever think you're a Type A, pinched-ass, pressure-thriving perfectionist, and then one day you wake up and you realize that, no, YOU ARE ACTUALLY THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF EVERYTHING YOU EVER THOUGHT YOU WERE IN THIS WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD????????????

Cue me, discovering I'm Type B.

Like, really Type B.

^^^ This is me, 10,000%.

Deadlines are teeny, tiny prison sentences you give yourself daily. Like voluntarily eating a rodent sandwich next to some guy named "Tiny" out in the yard. (And being upset with yourself if you don't finish flossing in record time.)

I know some people "thrive" with them, but I am not one of them. They don't move me. They're such an arbitrary human construct. And, nothing is more maddening than MADE-UP HUMAN RULES—especially when you're in the throes of your most creative work, only to have some blowhard come by and say, "But, we must obey the clock!"

Pfffffffttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Listen, slim, go eat a carrot. (Definitely a Type A kind of food.)

You know why else I think I'm Type B? Because recently I met someone who reuses paper towels. Like, wrings 'em out and hangs 'em to dry and then REUSES THEM. And I thought to myself, "Wow, am I a fuck up. Imagine if she came over to my house? There would be paper towel crimes of the highest degree. There would be crumb towels! And "just that little puddle by the sink!" towels. And "gotta wipe the sweat off my neck!" towels. And "whoops, no clean underwear!" towels. (Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhh.) There would be emergency purse towels. Oily face blotting towels. Blow your nose towels. "Fold it up and put it under the shaky table leg" towels. And, my personal favorite:

"Ran out of coffee filters" towels.

Totally a thing.

But, the point is?

I'm not re-using any of 'em.

(Is this what paper towel shame feels like? Because, I gotta tell ya, I think body shame is so much better. I like my shame to really, really hurt. Would much rather obsess over my arms.)

So, anyway, here I am thinking I'm all Type B, but then things like yesterday happen.

Yesterday I had an unexpected visitor show up AT SEVEN THIRTY AT NIGHT