Communication is pretty fucking key. It’s clutch. It’s everything that unlocks the next thing, like a key or clutch would. You get bobbled up or confused about a particular thing and you have trouble moving onto the next thing. Next thing you know, you’re playing with your thing because you feel anxious unable to move to the next thing.

I NEED TO MOVE ONTO THE NEXT THING!

When driving home, an already appointment-stacked-Friday became an overwhelmingly-appointment-stacked Friday. The issue wasn’t so much of being busy to a point where pooping will become something to put on the backburner, but the fact that my appointments were most likely given to me by mistake. Here’s the problem: no one’s telling me shit.

How DARE you make a mistake and not tell the person who you made the mistake to. Whom or who? I’ll never know. Owl.

If you fuck up, even in a somewhat minor way, but it affects someone else’s life, don’t you owe it to them to make sure they understand that? Maybe just at least clarify your booboo? Leaving someone in the dark because it’s easier for you isn’t cool. And I’m realizing this as I type it, but this rule is universal.

If you messed up someone’s food and they might have a dietary issue with an ingredient that got put in by mistake, shouldn’t you own up to it and fix it? You might have given someone the shits, which will affect everyone within their inner circle. Anyone that has to use the bathroom after them is going to be nauseous. That person that has the shits is going to be miserable and it’ll drag down everyone else around them. Maybe they’re up for a job interview and they cannot stop shitting, it’s relentless. They thought they could get through the interview and keep it plugged, but they couldn’t keep it plugged. Oops… NOW THEY’RE OUT OF WORK. The spouse can’t stand their failures anymore, they get a divorce, the shitter develops a drinking and opiate problem. They then become homeless because they can’t recover from the heartbreak. Next thing you know, they’re dead in an alleyway, shanked for their crack rocks. All because you couldn’t tell them that you added cheese to a dish by mistake. What is your fucking deal? Where’s your soul?

Or maybe you said you were going to pick up your other half from the airport but you totally confused what time they were landing. You promised someone else you’d pick them up from the train station at 9am. Now your spouse has landed, they’re totally alone in the airport, waiting for you…while you’re an hour away doing a favor for a friend. They said 9, but you thought they meant PM…not AM. Shit. Now you’ve got your friend who’s got to trek with you to the airport… but it’s too late. Your spouse met someone at the pickup station. They’ve now fallen for someone else who just offered them that innocent ride in their Bentley limo. You fucked up. Now you’re cold and alone. I don’t know why you’re cold, but it sounds like a “you” problem. You’re not going to win the spouse back from the cool Joe with the Bentley. They were there when you weren’t. You’ll never be forgiven for this. And all because you couldn’t ask “AM or PM?” Man, good luck with allllll that.

Or you sent a coworker some appointments because you mis-clicked, then changed them over to the correct person. But through the power of technology, the initial person you clicked on received texts regarding their new appointments. So, they set up their calendar as such, waking up earlier, ending their night sooner, doing research, moving other appointments around, killing goats in sacrifice of their newfound business…all because you couldn’t say “oops, sorry – that was a mistake. Don’t sweat it.”

The poor goats, man. 20 of them… DEAD. Throats slit ear to ear. Blood sucked directly from their necks for spiritual sustenance. Their horns ripped from their skulls to slit the throats of the others, all to assert spiritual dominance upon them.

And you couldn’t just send a quick text? Do you feel good shutting off your notifications and not responding to someone? You’ve now killed 20 goats, separated TWO marriages, and had someone go full homeless/ become a crack addict, and they got shanked… because OF YOU and you’re inability to communicate. Shame.

Shit, man. Be better. Communicate all things. Otherwise, people might kill a fuckton of goats for a couple solar appointments. And crack. Tons of crack.