Brad and I Are Still Thriving (Barely)

So it’s been a week since I posted about the wine girl in Thailand with her wind-blown hair, spiritual awakening, and a yoga instructor named Sage who probably doesn’t pay taxes. And I thought, surely after publicly admitting that I’ve been having long conversations with a pantry mouse named Brad, life would throw me a bone.

It did not.

Instead, life threw me a discount code for “20% off career coaching with a woman named Crystal who used to be in tech sales and now sells hope.” I clicked it. I don’t know why.

Meanwhile, wine girl? Still glowing.

She posted a video yesterday from Bali. There was a waterfall. She was floating in a pool made of spring water and good decisions.

Caption?

“Sometimes the best way to find yourself… is to lose your health insurance.”

I choked on my tap water.

Because I also lost my health insurance, Emily. But the only thing I found was an invoice for a dentist appointment I booked during a delusional burst of optimism in February.

Anyway, this morning I tried to recapture some of her peaceful, untethered magic by sitting cross-legged on my apartment floor with an incense stick I bought from the clearance bin at TJ Maxx. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and immediately sneezed four times and knocked over my only houseplant, Gerald.

Gerald didn’t survive.

Brad conducted a tiny funeral. There was one Cheerio and a respectful moment of silence.

After that, I decided to go for a walk—fresh air, perspective, maybe a free sample from the corner bakery if I looked emotionally unstable enough. I ended up at the park, where I tried to journal like Wine Girl probably does.

But I dropped my pen in a puddle, got barked at by a Shih Tzu named Bentley, and spent 15 minutes watching a squirrel carry an entire slice of pizza up a tree and thought, “Wow. Even he has goals.”

Now I’m back home. Still unemployed. Still unsure.

Still rocking the same hoodie (Q1 edition) and eating spoonfuls of peanut butter like I’m rationing for an emotional apocalypse.

But Brad and I? We’re hanging in there.

We didn’t make it to Thailand.

We didn’t launch a podcast (yet).

We did start a Google Doc called “Plan Z: Maybe We Open a Candle Shop?”

And honestly? That’s enough for now.

So if you’re also out here refreshing your inbox like it owes you rent, trying to manifest purpose from between couch cushions—welcome. You’re not alone. Brad and I saved you a seat at the table. It’s wobbly, but the vibes are unmatched.

Cheers. 🧀