Heather Thompson Day. Who the fuck is Heather Thompson Day?

Heather Thompson Day.

Who?

Seriously. Google tells me she's trending.

Trending for what?

I don't know.

And I don't care. My kids are screaming about Minecraft and I'm pretty sure I left a half-empty can of beer next to the toilet last night.

That's my trending topic.

Finding that beer. Maybe it's still cold.

My wife just walked in.

"Did you see Heather Thompson Day is everywhere?"

Goddammit.

"No, honey. Was she at the pub last night? Maybe I bought her a shot."

She just sighed. That familiar, weary sigh.

Anyway, Heather. Good for her, I guess.

Another guru. Another expert. Another person telling me how to live my life, probably.

Or how to be happy.

Or how to meditate.

Fuck that.

I'm happy when the kids are asleep. And there's whiskey.

And the bills are paid, mostly.

Work calls.

"Did you hear about Heather Thompson Day? We should probably leverage her insights for Q3 synergy."

Jesus Christ.

It's like everyone got the memo except me.

This is my life. Trying to keep up with names I don't know. Topics I don't care about. While my liver debates filing for divorce.

Maybe she's good. Maybe she's terrible.

Doesn't matter.

I just need coffee. And maybe a little hair of the dog.

Because whatever she's selling, I'm pretty sure it won't fix this headache.

Or the fact that my youngest just drew on the wall with permanent marker.

Life keeps moving. Trends keep trending. I'll just be here. Trying not to puke. And wondering if I should buy another case for the weekend.

Priorities.

That's what Heather Thompson Day is probably talking about.

Mine are pretty simple right now.

Survival.

One day at a time. One pint at a time.

Who's Heather, again?