A pile of dirty clothes is growing on the floor in front of my bed because all the clean clothes are in my laundry bag and I am too lazy to put away the neatly folded items or dig through the bag for what I need in the morning so I am just wearing the least offensive stuff I can lift from of the dirty pile. I left full bags of groceries on the floor in the kitchen. Hopefully, nothing needs to be refrigerated. The top shelf of my fridge is entirely beer. There are crumpled tissues all over the apartment. "You Will Be My Ain True Love" by Allison Krauss follows "Bitches Ain't Shit" by Dr. Dre on my music machine. I collect my bellybutton lint balls in an empty bottle of rum. It will take years to fill it but I will. And I will sell it. Masturbation is part of my "process." So is not cleaning. A tube or two of Pringles is a fine dinner. I sort out the problems in my life by absorbing the wisdom of primetime sitcoms, you dumb cunt.