Chaos and Charm

Every day starts the same way:
me, confidently hitting snooze again and again like I’m on island time — except I’m not.

I convince myself those extra nine minutes will somehow change the trajectory of my life.
Spoiler: they do not.

By the time I finally roll out of bed, I’ve entered the delusional optimism phase — the one where I think I can shower, do skincare, do something with my hair, find something to wear that fits right, overthink my existence, and still be early.
Right? Right?!

Then reality taps me on the shoulder like,
“Hey girl, you’re already running behind.”

That’s when the chaos symphony begins — clothes flying, hair defying gravity, me yelling “¡coño!” every 30 seconds because literally nothing is cooperating.

My fiancé sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone like a man who has accepted his fate.
He doesn’t even ask anymore — just watches as I drop my keys, slam the door, and mutter something like,
“Why does this happen every freakin’ time? Ugh!”

Because it does. Every. Single. Day.
It’s called Every Single Day: Starring Chaos Herself.

And yet… somehow, I still make it work.
Frizzy hair? Still cute.
Lip gloss? Poppin’.
Energy? Chaotic, but charming.

By the time I’m out the door, I’ve already promised myself tomorrow will be different.
Tomorrow I’ll wake up early, meditate, start the day bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and be that girl.
Tomorrow never comes. Que será, será!

But hey — being late is a lifestyle, mama.
And if I’m gonna sprint through life like a lunatic,
I might as well do it with style, lip gloss, and the false confidence of someone who swears she’s on schedule. 💋