Messy Life Chronicles: How to Derp Your Way Through a Monday
I woke with a jolt, my phone screaming at me to start the day like it had been possessed by a banshee. No snooze button luxury today—this was an up and at ’em kind of morning. A long day of onsite meetings loomed, which meant two hours on the road and a pit stop to drop the dogs off with their Auntie/Groomer/Boarding extraordinaire. Technically she’s closed on Mondays, but luckily, she loves me (and maybe even my dogs more).
The pups woke up suspicious, side-eyeing me as I darted from one thing to the next. Coffee mug—check. Water bottle—check. Electrolytes—check. Feed dogs—check. Shower—double check. Snuggles? Not today. We were on a time crunch, and unlike other days, lateness wasn’t an option.
Then came the drive: soul-crushing, patience-testing Houston traffic. A battlefield of entitlement where turn signals are basically invitations to speed up, and lane changes feel like dueling. It’s hard to see the good in humanity when everyone’s trying to shave 30 seconds off their commute at the cost of your sanity and safety.
At one point I caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror and nearly groaned out loud. My hair, despite being freshly washed, looked like I’d fought raccoons in my sleep and lost. I had sworn my brush was in the truck this morning, but no—vanished into the same black hole that eats socks and phone chargers. So there I was, rolling into the day’s chaos with a clean head of hair topped off by a full-blown rat’s nest. Professional chic, obviously.
Once at my friend’s shop, I ushered the dogs inside—no time for dilly-dally. Freya squealed with delight the second she realized where we were. A quick handoff, a wave of gratitude, and I was back on the road, already shifting my mind to the mountain of meetings ahead.
Then it hit me. A single thought that dropped into my brain like a grenade:
Did I actually send the meeting invites on Friday?
Panic bubbled up as I replayed Friday in my head. I remembered planning the meetings, adding them to my calendar… but had I attached anyone to the invites? My stomach twisted. By the time I parked, I was fumbling for my phone like it was a lifeline. I opened the first invite. Empty. I checked the next. Same.
I closed my eyes, let my head drop against the seat, and forced a deep breath. Another. My insides trembled with the realization of what I had—or hadn’t—done. An entire day of mandatory, back-to-back meetings. Planned perfectly. Shared with no one. “Why am I like this?” I muttered to myself. But panic wasn’t going to fix it. Another breath. Get it together. This is redeemable.
I pulled myself up, called through the list, and began maneuvering schedules like a frantic air traffic controller. Shifting times, apologizing, rescheduling, begging a little grace where I could. And somehow, with the help of my partner-in-crime (aka my teammate who deserves endless thanks), the day smoothed out. Everyone got where they needed to be. Meetings happened. Disaster dodged.
The rest of the day, I did my best to be kind to myself. I hate messing up. I hate letting people down. But this was just another “derp moment” in the saga of my messy, beautiful life—and it reminded me of something important.
It’s not the mistakes we make that define us. It’s how we handle them. Sometimes it takes a little critical thinking. Sometimes it takes breathing through the panic. And sometimes, it just takes owning it, fixing it, and carrying on with as much kindness as you can muster. I don’t always get it right. But I try. And for today, that was enough.
My boss lady, in all her graceful wisdom, cut us loose early to avoid the great Houston afternoon traffic gauntlet. I wasn’t about to argue—I practically clicked my heels on the way out and thought “there’s no place like home”. I called the dogs’ Auntie to advise I was coming, only to learn that madam hoochie was off getting her nails did while my sweet angels were locked up in the kennel. The audacity. The betrayal. The nerve (Kidding… mostly. 😂)
So I wandered to the gas station to top off the truck with an absurd amount of gas, passing the time by pretending to be dramatically impatient. Honestly, sending disappointed texts and fake huffing and puffing while I waited was way more entertaining than the real thing. Eventually, she fiiinnnalllyyy arrived and gave me the play-by-play of the pups’ day. Turns out she’d brought her own dogs for introductions, and aside from one predictable Freya “moment” (swiftly corrected with a zap zap), it was a roaring success. Odin, naturally, upheld his reputation as a perfect gentleman.
We battled the Houston traffic once more, but this time it wasn’t as soul-crushing. I caught up with my Mooma and friends on the phone, then cranked up my music and sang my little heart out. Driving toward the woods as the sunset painted the sky pink and purple behind the trees—there’s something majestic about that view, even when you’re behind the wheel. And compared to the chaos of the morning, the evening drivers almost felt… civilized, almost…
Once home, we settled into dinner, music, and snuggling. Later, I sank into my blessed throne—layered in fur, slobber, and unconditional love—and let the day replay in my mind. Honestly, this messy life of mine rarely runs smooth, but somehow it always balances out. The chaos, the hiccups, the little victories—they all weave together into a perfectly imperfect story I wouldn’t trade for anything. Well… maybe for a winning lotto ticket. That, I’d happily accept. Except I forgot to buy tickets, again. Derp der derp!
Lessons of the Day
Morning jolts: because the universe knows coffee can’t do all the heavy lifting.
In Houston, using your blinker isn’t a courtesy—it’s an open invitation to be cut off.
Raccoon chic: not a trend, just my reality.
Dogs don’t care about time crunches—they care about belly rub quotas.
Meetings only count if other humans actually know about them.
Panic is temporary. Deep breaths are free.
Leaving early: proof that sometimes the universe sends you tiny miracles.
Pretending to be impatient is more fun than the real thing.
Freya is chaos, Odin is class. Balance restored.
This messy life is perfectly imperfect… though remembering lotto tickets wouldn’t hurt.
