There’s a me-shaped dent in my couch cushions right where I flop down to watch tv at the end of every workday. I’m half proud, half disgusted with this discovery.

Tonight I bailed on getting drinks with a friend because a Ryan Reynolds movie was starting on Comedy Central when I walked in the door. Despite my normally social instincts, I refused to deny myself the treat that is RyRey’s beautiful onscreen bod to walk down a big hill, pretend to care about chit chat for an hour, and pay upwards of $30 for bitter liquid calories. So, I settled deep into the pillows… and didn’t get up for four hours.

Is this some sort of rock bottom? I always pictured it as a gray, shadowy place with jutting cliffs and flames and crusty syringes scattered about, but maybe since I’m not a drug addict, or a villain in a Disney movie, my rock bottom can only be as low as binging on breyers mint chocolate chip ice cream and eschewing happy hour for endless, commercial-filled, cable movies. Yes, I know. #Whitegirlproblems.

And wasn’t some girl recently attacked for confessing her white girl problems in the Huffington Post? This normal college grad accepted a stable job that appealed to her and paid the rent. She got a car and an apartment and health insurance and yet, felt totally disconnected from her peers. It was like the world expected her to be angsty and suffering because she’s a member of a generally jobless and hopeless generation, but it was difficult for her to muster any real outrage because life was going pretty well.

I suppose I can relate. I am luckyluckylucky. Gainfully employed. Affordable apartment. Fully-owned vehicle. Check check check. When things are going fine in most areas of your life, it’s like rock bottom is compartmentalized. You only experience low points in one chunk of the total package but that makes it feel all the more extreme. Eventually, that segment of my life will work itself out too and then I’ll wonder what I was even whining about.

So today, right now, I’m going to psych myself up for my weekend and its 48 solid hours of freedom. I can essentially do whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, and ya know what? That’s a luxury most people would kill for.

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