OK, I seriously have so much work to do today, but I also have a commitment to myself to honor. So before I write something I’m getting paid to write, I’ll write this:

Holy hell, did I put into writing that I haven’t cleaned my bathroom in weeks… and then actually hit publish? 

I did, didn’t I? Well, then. You might as well know these things, too:

1. I purchased my breakfast from QuikTrip this morning. For those of you in sadly QT-less locales, it’s the world’s best convenience store. It’s sort of like Buc-ee’s for y’all Texans—just not quite as manic.
2. I’m considering BOTOX. (Simmer down. I didn’t say I was getting it. I said I’m considering it. Also? You’d be surprised by how many people you know are BOTOXing it up, so be careful how you respond to this one.) 
3. When I was a kid, I discovered that if I raised my eyebrows slightly, my eyes looked bigger. According to the magazines—the ones I now wish I hadn’t consumed—big eyes were an important feature for a girl. Raising my eyebrows became an involuntary habit. And so many, many years later, my forehead is… in need of BOTOX. 
4. I feel the most self-conscious when I’m around other women.
5. You can be 100% yourself around me. That said, if you express any views I experience as homophobic, transphobic, racist, sexist, misogynistic, xenophobic, ableist, or class-ist, I will likely respond poorly. I’ll try not to, but some days my heart sprints past my brain, and I don’t express myself well. In other words, I don’t want you to hide yourself, but I can’t promise we won’t have uncomfortable conversations from time to time.
6. I’m completely, thoroughly, totally, unwaveringly certain that I do not have everything figured out. Or even most things. Maybe, on a good day, I have a thing—one thing—figured out. 
7. I have never watched a single Hallmark Christmas movie. 
8. When we went to Oktoberfest in Stafford, Kansas this year, we stopped by Jack’s dad’s old house. There was a big fat woolly bear caterpillar making its way across the gravel driveway. I picked him up and carried him around with me until he peed on my hand. When I tried to put him down, I accidentally dropped him, and he curled up in a ball. I poked him with a stick to make sure he was OK, and he didn’t move. I’m pretty sure I killed the little guy. That was, what? Seven weeks ago? I still feel terrible. 

All right, that was fun. Commitment fulfilled. I hope your Thursday is full of startling revelations—maybe even about yourself.