After bending down to put Avery's shoes on her feet and my favorite jeans split, I decided I hate my life and the only thing that would make me feel better is if I could pretend I was a chicken fetus, aka my favorite food, for one night.

Then I started hating my life some more because I don't have friends and, therefore, have no Halloween plans (again).

And yeah, okay fine, last year Darien and I went out for steaks and bought an ottoman at Ross, so it wasn't a total loss, but I'm pretty sure I wore a hoodie and jeans and went as "myself."

Holidays are so depressing in Nashville.

Yikes. I wanted to write something funny about being a fried egg for Halloween and it's turning into a therapy session.

Still hate it here.

Still can't wait until I feel confident enough in my current job that I won't be needed anymore before deciding to totally bitch out and leave.

Still can't wait to enjoy holidays again.

Womp womp womp.