Itinerary: four hours of How I Met Your Mother for no discernible reason, then phuchkas, then a bottle of Thums Up guzzled idly under the peepal tree outside my building, then two hours on badassoftheweek.com, then despair. Currently, stiff neck and horror at vocabulary wipeout. I could swear I knew more fancy words when I was sixteen. Then again, at sixteen I was convinced I had better use for the world than most people; I was certain I'd study something cool, not be stuck in a nine-to-five job, be thin and famous by twenty-eight, prove my worth by being a one-man woman, the works. The sixteen-year old me would most certainly have received the finger from 2010 me.

So I'm thinking, maybe it's time for MS Paint.