Mahna Mahna

I’ve been in a Mexican standoff with a couple of frogs for the past few days. Someone left the bathroom window open overnight, which is how I think they got in the house but that’s a lament for another time.

Anyhoo… I got up Wednesday morning to go to the bathroom and saw a dark spot on the shower curtain. I tapped it and something dropped to the ground.

In the shower looking up at me was a frog.

I was like, Listen, I already have one of your reptilian cousins hibernating in my bedroom. You and I cannot co-exist in this bathroom. You need to figure out your way out of the shower so I can take MY shower, or it won’t be pretty.

I swear it understood me, because that thing hopped out of the shower, and I did what I had to do. Now, I never shower with my glasses on, but that day I had to. I needed 20/20 vision to see what was going on around me.

Then the breeze from the window blew the shower curtain against my leg.

I almost lost it.

For a split second, I thought the frog had returned to exact revenge. Not today, Satan. I was ready to throw salt everywhere.

What I didn’t realize was that the amphibians were only the beginning of my having to adjust to life’s cray cray antics last week.

Do do do do do

I low-key feel like I’ve lost a part of myself. Normally, I wake up in the morning, do my devotions, and then I check my Fitbit. I check my heart rate from the night before and then get up, work out, and stretch. That’s my morning routine.

Wednesday morning, (same Wednesday mind you) it died.

I couldn’t check my Fitbit.  The spiral was immediate. Cue the internal wailing. My internal monologue went something like this… “Lord, I don’t know if this is You trying to slap me back to reality, reminding me that I have to depend on You for everything, but this right here? This is a bit much. Can I at least get the Fitbit to work til I start making some real cash?”

But nope. That witch had died, and she would not resuscitate.

And I was hardcore in my feelings about a freaking electronic device. It was insane. I should not feel this way. I am Gen X, damn it. I should not be this attached to a damn Fitbit! But I was.

It took 48 hours to pivot. But to actually be okay with the pivot is an ongoing issue. Because, yes, now I have to be super productive. I have to get up and actually put on workout gear because I can’t fit my phone in a thong and expect it to stay in place while I’m marching and doing Walk Away the Pounds. That’s a recipe for cracking my damn phone.

So now I gotta put on clothes in my own damn bedroom. This is a problem. But here we are.

Yeah, I’m sad about it.

I know, I know. In the grand scheme of things, losing a Fitbit is nothing. But I can’t help how I feel. I even told myself, Vanessa, get a grip. Pull yourself together. I don’t even cry at family funerals! I sit there, stone-faced, watching people break down like, why are you like this?

I am the Volturi at funerals. Standing on the balcony, watching.

And yet, I almost shed a damn tear over this flicking Fitbit. This is a problem. Where is my value system? Where is my—I don’t even know.

Trying to push past creepy crawlers trying to give me a flying high-five and the loss of a crutch, I was optimistic about what should have been my first adulting experience in 2025. It’s one of the promises I made to myself as part of my self-care journey.

I went out, like a date out and not for work or to help someone do something or act as a wingman to someone else.

It was a spectacular bust.

Do do do do

Clearly, I’m super rusty when it comes to outing etiquette. My standard leggings with a sleeveless top and sandals were not getting rave reviews from my cousins or their kids prior to the evening’s launch. Then again, this was my everyday garb.

Also missing was attention to my face. I’m pretty sure the one eyeliner I do possess is lost in the abyss of one of my drawers at home. Thankfully, my cousin/date was a fashion designer. She saved the day with jewellery that pops and a few tips for hair adjustments. After a nod from the gallery, we were off into the night to have a good time.

We were wrong.

How was I supposed to know that the event we were going to required tickets in advance and not at the door? Three weeks of wrapping my head around a wonderful course of adult delights and I forget to order the main dish.

Dejected and hungry, we salvaged the night with takeout on the beach and a quick trip to the gas station for drinks that turned out to be the highlight of our evening.

I forgot how unapologetically bold Bahamian men are with their compliments. It’s been a while since I had someone come on that strong. Sidebar: what happened to bro code? How is it that the driver, front seat passenger and backseat passenger all tried to shoot their shot simultaneously? It was pure comedy I tell you.

And after the week I had, it was a pretty good start to dig in with my self-care objectives. At the very least, I now have a better idea of what to do next time.

Anyway. That’s where I’m at. That’s life right now. And I am almost not a fan.

From feisty frogs and a dead Fitbit to feeling some kind of way about not knowing how to plan a proper outing, I’m gonna take a page out of my hibernating friend’s book, close my eyes and enjoy the cool breeze outside while it lasts.

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