I am never more dangerous to myself or my bank account then when I’m hit with a late night surge of energy to do anything other than whatever it is I am supposed to do. I have no idea if this is an trait attached to the carnival of other shenanigans that come with an ADHD dx, or the pistachio affogato I had with dessert tonight at Carbonara just activated me like the Manchurian Candidate.

(Sidebar: this affogato was the single most alcoholic thing I’ve consumed since I stopped doing racks of test tube shots in under-bridge clubs in the warehouse districts of Beijing, purchased for me by random wandering fleets of Chinese gays. When I first caught a whiff I genuinely whispered, “This smells like Everclear.” The server claimed it was pistachio liqueur, which feels like a lie, or that Carbonara makes its own pistachio liqueur using Everclear.)

(Sidebar to the sidebar: to be clear, none of this is a complaint.)

So far tonight, I have dropped $250 online shopping for random shit including but not limited to slutty shorts (shut up, everybody who knows me), giant t-shirts (to go with the slutty shorts), giant hoop earrings, and a mattress vacuum because my mom said something about how much skin dust she gets out of their mattress and now I’m convinced I’m sleeping in filth every night, which I’m guessing was was psy-op she was planning all along. This was after I decided to do laundry, vacuum my entire apartment, and rearrange all the furniture in my bedroom — which I didn’t get around to doing until half past midnight, and was the original triggering decision that kicked off this entire insanity spiral.

So now it is 1 a.m., I am exhausted and cannot go to bed until the laundry is done because my mom raised a lunatic not a quitter.