revealing (although slightly misleading) details

I just went to Smith's to buy a kitchen timer. For the last two weeks my attention span has been so bad that I needed to establish managable, bite-sized chunks of time. Every 30 minutes I could change what I was doing: start packing, statistics homework, shower, law school applications, Marx paper, Three Cups of Tea, pack again, check my email, nap, stats, pack, read, and so on. I got sick of setting my cell phone. That's how low my motivation is right now, people. I can't even muster up the energy to set a 30-minute alarm on my phone.

But that's not the point of this story. In addition to the timer (which, incidentally, is a heinously ugly Betty-Crocker-red and the only digital timer in the entire store), I came away with two Lindt Lindor bars and a bottle of sparkling cider. Which, at the time, seemed like a great idea. But as I was leaving, I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection from the sliding doors. Feast your eyes on this:

It was 9:30 at night, I was walking out of a grocery story in my faded, navy blue, Rick's College sweatpants from 1998, a red thermal shirt, and nasty old rain boots. My mascara was smeared down one side of my face from crying earlier in the day. My hair, although uncharacteristically clean, was in my face and in an icky side pony tail. And I was leaving Smith's carrying only Martinellis and Lindt bars. I looked like a pathetic, lonely girl, who eats her feelings - and that is only mostly true.

(I am not lonely)