If only I could say that this has only happened to me eight times…but alas, the reality is far too harrowing. And after doing it to my daughter's teacher I know I can't go back to her school anymore. Yes, I know the school year just started. Parent-teacher conferences aren't mandatory, right?

But I can't be the only one this happens to. Please tell me I'm not the only one. [My editor is telling me I sound desperate. Do I sound desperate? *Personal note: Ask ChatGPT about this later*]

Either way, I've come up with some coping techniques because these happen way too often:

Parking lot therapy at its finest. Just…maybe park the car over in the far corner first, lest some Susan Do-Gooder tap on your window to "check if you're okay" and then you literally die of embarrassment.

Like, no duh, I'm clearly not okay, Susan. I'm ugly crying and screaming in my car in a parking lot, you dingbat.

Plants can't wave back, so it's okay. Besides, Reader's Digest says plants thrive on hand waves. And I promise to really, really try to keep it alive this time. Like, set an alarm to water it once or twice a week. Wait–how often are you supposed to water plants?

It's crazy how my friends call me a plant serial killer but none of them actually tell me how to take care of the stupid things. Maybe stop giving me plants and come up with something useful, Brittany.

Thank goodness kids are so much easier than plants.

Surely the drive-through person will be different from this morning, right? Okay, maybe not. But she's not going to say anything. And if she does? Spend 23 minutes thinking of some clever line or joke to make light of the situation. The wait for your coffee will take 23 minutes anyway.

[My editor told me I have to insert a joke here, but I'm still recovering and self-care is somewhere in the Declaration of Independence. It's true–Nicolas Cage says so.]

Saying things like, "You can really taste the cadmium in this one" while violently tapping her acrylic nails against the side of the bottle.

"And don't even get me started on Dasani…" *shudders at the thought*

You can practice your hand waving in your new mirror. Practice makes perfect, you know. BTW, is there a limit on how many "Live, Laugh, Love" signs one house can have? I didn't think so. Look, if fluffy throw pillows and August-bought Christmas decorations rid your soul of sadness, who am I to judge?

Your spouse might, though. It's okay, beds are totally meant to have 31 pillows on them.

That's right, I'm talking about a Target run. I know because I've been there. I mean, it could be Kirkland's or Kohl's or wherever. They're all the same.

But yeah, highly recommend spending money you don't have. And while you're there, buy that $40 candle because it smells like clouds and mindfulness and, dammit, you deserve it!

We know we're not supposed to eat our feelings anymore, but comfort food is called comfort food for a reason! And why is it always Panera?? It's just frickin' soup in a bread bowl. Wait–what do you mean you're out of bread bowls?!? I want my carbs on carbs on carbs, dammit! 😤

No, it's not stalking; it's social media. Don't lie–you know you've done it. But it's probably been a while so check and see what's new. Who knows? Zach was hot stuff in high school but maybe he's put on 85 pounds, looks like a middle school vice principal (AKA perpetually in his third trimester), and has a hairline that matches his dating life–they both keep running away.

Hey, you gotta have dreams.

No one has to know it's not water. Seriously, I've looked into it. You can put anything in those "water" containers–no one checks. *wink* The downside? Well, it might make you more likely to wave at people who weren't waving at you to begin with, which is what got you into this mess in the first place, so…idk, be responsible?

Don't forget the Hozier playlist while you're in there: existential tears with a side of Irish forest vibes. Plus the acoustics are better there than in your car. And when your four-year-old finds you bawling into your loofah, just tell her, "Remember when Elsa sang 'Let It Go'? Mommy's just…really committing to that."

Spring Cleaning meets manic rage and max fed-upness. You'll run out of steam halfway through and leave the rest of the mess for "later." AKA your spouse can't take it anymore and finishes cleaning it while muttering to themselves. (Ask me how I know.)

My personal favorite. Yes, it's meditative. You can trust me: I got my Degree in Calm from Harmony's Online School for Shiny Purple Crystal Healing. So yeah, I know what I'm talking about. Doomscrolling is totally underrated.

It even has a name: ✨Revenge Procrastination✨. Like, yes, I know what I should be doing right now, but IDGAF and am loaded up on double-stuff Oreos right now. At least something in this house is double-stuffed.