Lazy, Pathetic

My Mom – The Ultimate Hipster

I flipped over my laptop bag from its resting position on the floor next to my bed. It was covered in mold. I don’t understand how, but there are blotchy green bumps all over one side of my laptop bag. It now rests at the bottom of my bed with the blotches of mold face up. I don’t know what else to do with it.

This bag has been with me for 6 years. It is the longest I’ve owned nearly anything. I can’t throw it out, but I don’t know how to get rid of mold.

There are times when I’m reminded that I am not a good adult yet. That I still have growing up to do. Growing up involves an ability to be self-reliant, and when bad things happen that I don’t understand how to fix, I revert to my 11 year old self and want my mom to come fix it all for me. My mom is the only real adult I know. I don’t think there is a problem that she’s had that she can’t fix on her own. I respect her for it, but I also fear her for it. How did she become so good at fixing things? How did I get half her genes and still manage to be so unfunctional?

I think I’m going to leave the laptop bag with mold side up for a while and hope that mold grows on both sides. Then at least it’ll look like a cool hipster pattern. My mom knows nothing of cool hipster patterns – she wears horse riding pants and baggy sweatshirts with animals on them.

Fuck.

She knows all about cool hipster patterns.

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