I just spent an hour reading blogs written by people who live in houses with hard wood floors, white walls, and home offices with salvaged barn door desks. They eat old cheese and hand pies and drink Pimm’s Cups and cocktails. They decorate their homes with peonies from their garden, hand-lettered signs, and nautical paintings. They go on picnics by the ocean with their black lab and wear really cool leather shoes and have jobs as photographers and web developers. They dope.

So I read their blogs, and I think, “Hey, I could do that! I could live by the beach and have a magazine-worthy home and eat delicious foods every day. Why don’t I do that?”

Then I set my laptop down, and I get up to grab a piece of pizza from the fridge and to take into the bathroom to eat while peeing with the door open.

And I realize this is the most I will ever be.

He likes pizza, too. (Fun fact: the shorts I’m wearing in this picture are from 7th grade.)