Blame it on the Bossa Nova

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It all began with one little shrug. A belief that one little thing could not be of such importance.

The junk mail piled up. The bills were mixed up with all that bulky mail.
I’m not the one who made envelopes so aggressive. I am not to blame for the ungodly amount of junk mail. And honestly, if something were really urgent, it would come via DM, or at least a text. Right?

I was late on rent one time. Well, two. Okay three.
But that’s what grace periods are for. And if they didn’t want me to be late, they shouldn’t make the first of the month arrive so fast. Time is a construct. I don’t think it’s my fault or responsibility to take on the weight of today’s economy. Who hired the people in charge anyway? Someone should be in charge!

I was going to start meal prepping. I had dreams. Aspirations of an organized food selection. All hand made. All labeled. Organic. Just the right amount of Protein and sass. Everything will be just perfect. But the market was out of arugula, and after that it all fell apart. Who could stay focused under such conditions. God said no.

I was going to fix the dripping faucet, but the plumber had an attitude. I called my landlord but no one answered. So, is it my fault?

I was going to fold the laundry, but the dryer door creaked in a way that felt… accusatory. I didn’t have enough quarters and I’m pretty sure someone is using my fabric softener coz ain’t no way. I’ll just drop it off to wash and fold service.

Leveraging low tasks so i can have more time for the real important ones. That’s what this book i just read said. And Hormozi said it too on the reels. I take a nap instead.

I almost vacuumed.
But then the bossa nova came on. That warm, slippery music.
The kind that makes you forget there are rules, reminders, receipts. The kind that makes you say, “what’s one more night of Burger King?” or “the mold will dry” or “vibes are valid.”

I didn’t check my credit score. I didn’t email my boss back.
I didn't open the spreadsheet labeled “Taxes 2023 (For Real This Time).”
Instead, I lit a candle and danced barefoot on a tile floor that’s not even mine.

I am not calling my parents, I don’t seem to find the right time. Well, with the 5 hour difference and all… I am just so busy…

I started a budget and a business and a new hobby. Where exactly is the money coming from? And where does it go? And why did no one tell me about this in school?

You plotted my failures. You want me to crumble. Well, how much can a single girl take?

That date I ghosted?
I meant to explain. I tried to explain.
But what is explanation, really, if not another opportunity to be misunderstood?

I didn’t show up to the dinner. I couldn’t make it. It was last minute anyway. I don’t like the food there and there’s never any parking.
But I liked the photo on IG they posted. That counts. For a lot.

I don’t have a weight problem. It’s my hormones. And I work a lot. It’s genetics too. My supermarket doesn’t have the food i need and honestly it’s so hard to be healthy with so many allergies. It’s not like I made them up.

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“Where Home is You & You were going to take responsibility, but the music started.”

I was planning on waking up early this week. I was. It was on my planner and the alarm clock was set. But my medication doesn’t let me wake up early. Or Focus. I have a hard time focusing. I take my pills but they make me sleepy. I have to take my pills. In the am. to wake up. In the pm to sleep. In the mid day to be nicer. In the afternoon to poop. I am wired this way, you see… My mother says I was always like this.

I wish I had your focus and persistence. but it’s just not who I am,

“You’re so Lucky!”

I signed up for the gym. But the classes I like are always on those time slots when I’m not available. I was gonna go for a swim and sauna but I just don’t have the right bathing suit rn.

I didn’t apologize.
But I reposted something about “softening” and “boundaries,” and honestly that should cover it.

I almost read a book. Almost got in shape. Almost saved some money. Almost wrote a newsletter. Almost got abs. Almost did my hair. Almost shaved my legs. I almost got my life together.

But the weather changed. The rain came, the lattes got sweeter and my cat looked so cozy in bed.

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Accountability.

Ability to account and recount our actions. I think maybe only CEO’s and PR firms should use it. No?

Real accountability isn’t theatrical. It doesn’t come with a good playlist or an audience. It’s quiet. Lonely. It often happens in the dull aftermath, when no one is watching and there is no bossa nova.
To blame the algorithm. The weather. The barista. Your fifth-grade teacher. Your last lover. The full moon in Pisces. Your ancestors.

vibes are off.

God said no.

We dance around it, humming our little excuses in a major key. Because the moment we say, “That was me,” the track changes. We’re not background music anymore—we’re the lead instrument. And that’s terrifying.

I am lucky, you see. To have this voice. And this smile. And this body of work. And these goals accomplished. And a fit body. And a loving heart. And beautiful hair. And a house full of prayer. Lucky to have time to read and Lucky to know how to dance Tango. I am privileged to know many languages and to be Dual Citizen. I am Lucky things just come easy to me.

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