Too much time spent crying over spilled milk.

Instead of cleaning up, I let it sit.

I only guess at why I let it happen.

How could I let it slip from my fingertips?

One more long day over, but one more year long gone.

I keep getting older, but the rest are moving on.

Counting down the days until that something.

Counting on that something to be it.

The reason for the messes held behind me.

That all of those were adding up to this.

But there is no something.

There is no it.

There is no reason.

There is no this.

There’s just me, and

There’s my mess, and

There’s the time that I have left.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

What is that?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why is she awake?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Maybe she's thirsty.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I hope she doesn't have to use the restroom. It's so cold outside.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Man, I really wish they had carpet.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

LET ME SLEEEEEEEEP!

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Oh my God. Fiiiiiine.

Exasperated, I threw the covers off of me. 

I need a real job, I thought to myself.

Petsitting for fifty bucks a night sounds great on the surface. Walk the dog a few times. Feed her. Sit on the couch, do nothing, get paid.

But here I am. And I miss my bed. And my boyfriend. And my routine. My anxiety and clean-freak nature have skyrocketed living amongst other people's dirt. Yes, I realize how petty that sounds. Yes, I know I probably shouldn't be offering to clean up after other people's pets if I can't even handle dirt from those people themselves.

I stepped onto the cold hardwood floor and made my way down the creaky stairs from the loft to the main floor. I clicked on the light near the front door, illuminating the space in front of me.

The Tap. Tap. Tap. suddenly ceased.

Tess positioned herself sideways directly in front of me. She turned her head in my direction, and her cataract-filled eyes looked into mine.

She looked... well she looked damn cute as always. But there was something els there tonight. Was it sad? No, it was more than that. Apologetic? Can a dog even feel apologetic? Or maybe it was fearful?

"Are you okay, sweetie?" I asked her in my best cooing voice. She tilted her head to the side and continued to stare at me.

"Oh honey, do you miss your mommy and daddy?" I said as if she knew exactly what I was asking.

Before I could even reach out to pat her head, I froze. The sound of liquid hitting the floor accompanied by small farts made my stomach drop.

"No, no, no, no, no, NO, NOOOOOO!" I managed to squeak.

I was torn between sadness for the old pup who must've had quite the stomachache, anger at myself for not listening to her Tap. Tap. Tap. as a warning that she needed to go out, and the nausea overcoming me as the smell of diarrhea hit my nostrils.

I gagged, watching helplessly as the puddle continued to grow far and wide across the room. I collapsed onto the floor, safely away from the mess, and cried dramatically.

I looked up to see Tess staring at me from across the living room. Her sweet eyes seemed to be telling me to get my shit together so that I could get her shit together... Literally.

She was right. I heaved a great sigh, or rather attempted to, as another generous whiff of stink filled my lungs. I leapt across the river of liquid poo and dashed to the side sliding door. But my abrupt movement must've frightened Tess, because as I slid open the door, I heard three anxiety-inducing noises in succession behind me.

Tap. Thud. Slosh.

Cold, fresh air rushed into the humid living room as I slowly pivoted around to find poor Tess, sprawled in her own filth.

I don't get paid enough for this shit.

Once upon a time, there lived a troll. He built a few castles and hoarded his gold.

Grump was his name, fitting, to some. To others, his name was a promise of sun.

It's not that his wild hair hid a big brain. It's just that he made hurting people his game.

The people ignored his threat to the crown. They did not believe he could bring it all down.

But the trolls each came out from under their bridges. They rose up with ghosts, vampires, and witches.

Together their whispers turned to a big hum. Their hums turned to chanting, "All hail Mr. Grump!"

The chants were so loud, they knocked off the crown of the King of the Free, and it tumbled down.

Down the crown rolled, over truth, over love. Grump's tiny hands grabbed it with push and shove.

He lifted it onto the top of his head and the sky clouded over. All orange, all dread.

And so all the monsters raised fists in the air. "All hail King Grump!" drowned out any prayer.

So here we sit, with tears in our eyes. We the People have met our demise.

I sat across the room from her, but it didn't feel like enough space between us.

You don't know me. You don't know my life. I'm not gonna sit here and explain myself to some stranger.

She was pretty, I guess, in an unremarkable way. She sat in a brown leather chair, legs crossed, with a notepad in her lap. She jotted down quick notes with a ballpoint pen she held with slender fingers, one of which flaunted a rock the size of New York City.

How could some skinny bitch with a fiancé possibly understand my misery?

I watched her uncross her legs and then cross them again. Her Steve Madden heels perfectly completed her "boss lady" outfit of pressed slacks and a royal blue blouse. On the side of her desk, I spotted her purse. It was almost identical to the bag I was caught lifting from Louis Vuitton. That dumb bag... the reason I'm here.

Must be nice to have the kind of money to just buy anything you want. I bet she's never been short for cash a day in her life.

I kicked off my shoes and sprawled out on the couch. Might as well get comfy. Gonna be here a while. Across from me was a degree hanging on the wall.

Harvard? I rolled my eyes. Of course. Smart, too. Or maybe daddy bought her way in.

She cleared her throat. I glared at the ceiling. She was waiting for me to answer her question: Why did I do it?

How could a hotshot like her possibly understand why I did what I did. Ha! I'm sure her biggest struggle in life is whether to buy these shoes or those shoes, this watch or that one.

I snorted, thinking about how easy she had it. She asked the question again, unamused. I struggled, trying to think of something to say with enough bite to shut her up.

I looked her straight in the eye, dead serious.

"The truth is..."

I could tell she was pleased that she'd made this breakthrough, getting me to talk. I couldn't wait to take the wind out of her sails.

In the nastiest, most condescending voice I could muster up, I sneered, "My mommy told me never to talk strangers."

How do you say goodbye

To someone you don't know?

A thousand miles away

Too scared, I can't fly home

It was his decision

To stop his medication

Did he bring it on himself

With self-medicating?

Despite this evidence

My anger's less than love

The disease that started this

It lives within my blood

First went his liver

Then went his kidneys

An expiration date?

But he's a human being

Hair longer than mine

A prodigy with earrings

Every instrument

Musical engineering

He's only thirty-four

My memories are few

I just want him to know

Erik, I love you.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

What is that?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why is she awake?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Maybe she's thirsty.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I hope she doesn't have to use the restroom. It's so cold outside.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I really wish they had carpet.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

LET ME SLEEEEEEEEPPPPPPP!

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Oh my God. Fiiiiiine.

Exasperated, I threw the covers off of me. I need a real job, I thought to myself.

Petsitting for fifty bucks a night sounds great on the surface. Walk the dog a few times. Feed her. Sit on the couch, do nothing, get paid.

But here I am. And I miss my bed. And my boyfriend. And my routine. My anxiety and clean-freak nature have skyrocketed living amongst other people's dirt. Yes, I realize how petty that sounds. Yes, I know I need professional help.

I stepped onto the cold hardwood floor and made my way down from the loft to the main floor. I clicked on the light near the front door, illuminating the space in front of me.

The Tap. Tap. Tap. abruptly ceased.

Tess positioned herself sideways directly in front of me. She turned her head in my direction, and her cataract-filled eyes looked into mine.

Is that fear? Or... No, no, no, no, no, NO, NOOOO!

The sound of liquid hitting the floor accompanied by small farts made my stomach drop.

I was torn between sadness for the old pup who must've had quite the stomachache, anger at myself for not listening to her Tap. Tap. Tap. as a warning that she needed to go out, and the nausea overcoming me as the smell of diarrhea hit my nostrils.

I don't get paid enough for this shit.

I love when poems rhyme

It reminds me of a better time

I was young, the world was bright

Playing house, telling moons goodnight

But as I grew, the world grew too

They said, "Out with the old, and in with the new"

Crayon to pencil, pencil to pen

Seuss to Poe to Dickinson

From fighting naps to begging for sleep

From enjoying books to analyzing

I said once, "I love the rhymes"

But those rhymes faded with the times

Tell me, does the glee fade too?

Here's your answer.