Beat, Baby

This is a note for our wonderful subscribers: we will pause subscription billing as we plan for Sassy's future.

I know you think you may have only been hearing my stories, but you've been hearing multiple. Did you know you're actually supporting three women? Did you know there's another woman behind Sassy? And here she is...

Hi, I'm Brooke. I'm sure you have a few questions. I can answer a few.

Is the name changing? Yes, stay tuned.
Is the platform changing? Yes, soon we'll drive a moving truck to Substack.

Don't worry. We will continue to keep you updated.

The sky is falling!!!!!!

Well, it's more like the ceiling. Long story short, there's an unsanctioned skylight, or, to use less sexy terms, a hole.

My first thought was that I was going to be sexually assaulted by a raccoon.

So, to prevent this nonsensical travesty, emergency housework had to be completed. Housework that did not give two damns about what I had planned for the weekend. After checking, I learned I would be in for a rainy overnight forecast, further troubling my whole soul.

Therefore, I needed to secure a tarp from the outside. However, standing atop a ladder (a ladder that I would violently ram my foot into days after I allowed it to nap on the living room floor instead of returning it to the basement) with my graceless gait may not have been my best idea.

My cousin, who was coming to hold the ladder, brought her fellow who chivalrously volunteered to brave the ladder. Which likely prevented me from spending the rest of my evening in the ER.

Then, I was off to the store. I frantically searched Home Depot, still acutely aware of the alleged selection of gentleman callers that folks claim reside in places such as this. Although the only man that has ever said hello is my friend's father, and I am pretty confident that she'd be pissed if I tried to shoot my shot.

When I finally returned home, the housework wasn't completed in the colorful and charming ragtag manner in which Pippi Longstocking would have conducted a home repair. Oh no, I fumbled with waterproof tape akin to Mr. Bean after getting it stuck on my gloves, the dining room table, to itself, and a glass candleholder that I ultimately shattered.

The next day, I was frazzled, and after some terrible Joe, idol sitting pondering where to begin (and life in general), and some self-prescribed hydrotherapy, which was just me taking a cold shower, hoping that would give my brain a jump because the battery seemed officially dead.

I eventually ended up back at Home Depot for more supplies to remedy and further secure the shoddy job I'd completed the day before.

Finally, it felt secure (ish) enough to fend off the elements and any predatory raccoons until the real Calvary, the handyman, arrived the following day.

I am happy to admit that I had no idea what I was doing. Hell, this is one of many areas where this statement rings true.

Generally speaking, even when something appears urgent, taking a beat is worthwhile, whether it's a hole in the ceiling or returning a text.

Without a plan, a little research, specific intention, and a cool head, you can most assuredly make things worse—that is, make the hole bigger, which I did.

Avoid confusion, mistakes, and overreaction—take a beat, baby. The holes not going anywhere.

Goodies

Flo(w): Best Christmas Pageant Ever

Eye Candy: Modern Day Golden Girls

Pregnant Pause: Shame Be-Gone

Body+: Club Christmas