Still Passing the Open Windows

First I put my dress on inside out this morning (I only figured out the problem when I went to fasten the buttons down the front), then I came within millimeters of popping an Ambien in my mouth instead of my Allegra.  Sure, they both start with the letter "A," but the generic doesn't (Zolpidem is kind of hard to mistake for Fexofenadine).  Not that I think anyone would have really noticed if I was passed out drooling on my desk.  My reputation is so solid here, they'd just assume that I was already over in my hours (I am!), and that I was just taking a nap off the clock.  The next thing I grabbed was my Klonopin.  Should I continue to ignore my subconscious queues that I should not be at work, or do I flagrantly flout my body's wishes and keep plugging away and hope I don't decide to do anything stupid like throw myself off the top of the building?

It is time to buy a new toilet seat.  There's something I need to admit.  It's a bit humiliating, and I don't have a very good explanation for why this happens to me.  I am constantly breaking the toilet seat off its hinges.  It starts with one side, and eventually the other side breaks due to the stress.  This only happens at the house (thank goodness), and it obviously is not due to my weight.  All I know is I am the common denominator in this situation, and maybe I can blame the cats, but I don't think I can.  Perhaps it is my lack of grace--flopping down on the seat as if my knees can no longer support my weight.  Either way, the current one is obviously broken, and toilet seats are not as cheap as one would hope.  Oh, hey, wait a minute, Ivy Vyne's toilet seat is also broken...maybe it isn't just me after all.