Resting your eyes for 20 seconds on the sofa
It will be fine. Totally fine. It’s just the ad break and you are so traumatised by Handmaid’s Tale anyway that there is absolutely no chance of falling asleep. You wake up at 3am cold and covered in crumbs that have made patterns on your face and nestled in your wrinkles.
Running for a piece of transportation
Oh, look the bus/train/tube pulling in to the stop. You do yoga, you run occasionally, you did a spin class once and survived, and so you are basically fit. But you weren’t carrying a heavy bag then, or texting, or wearing cute Ancient Greek sandals or fucking kitten heels. Were you? You jar your back leaping down the station steps or get caught in the doors or lose the shoe. You rip the seam in your jacket and sweat your make-up on to your ill-advised white shirt. Cinderella didn’t have to put up with this shit.
The 5th anything
Of course you can handle the fifth coffee (*starts hearing colours*), the fifth cocktail (*falls asleep on bathroom floor. In restaurant*), the fifth biscuit (*feels crushing food shame despite years of feminism*).
Facebooking to see if ex-boyfriends are getting married
Of course you are happy. And of course you are happy that they are happy. Of course you don’t want them to have died in a horrible humiliating way.
You are a super-power. Nothing can disrupt your multi-tasking brilliance. You can do an Ocado shop up a ladder while dealing with the ivy. Except you’ve shattered your phone/coccyx again.
Listen, running businesses/households/lives with an ever-alert trend-dar and a huge capacity for fun (occasionally) is all very well until you meet a form. A passport form. You wake up screaming DON’T WRITE OUTSIDE THE LINES for months afterwards.
Postponing that pee
It will be OK. You can keep talking/watching/working. You’ll totally make it.
Going out two nights in a row
Yes, you know that going out is fun (is it though?). And you really have to do this thing. And that thing. And what’s the worst that can happen if you go out two nights in a row? This is you leading your best life. Wait a second who the fuck is that 1,000-year-old woman in the mirror?