A HOUSEFUL of BADASSITUDE

It started at 8:03 a.m. with a to-do list so long it tried to file for custody of my soul. I was already in my battle outfit—messy bun, leggings with mysterious stains (paint? or is it yogurt?)—and a mug that said “Badassitude.”

The plan was simple: do all the things, fix all the people, collapse by 11:47 p.m. like a tragic Victorian heroine who forgot her fainting couch.

Then my spoon hit on me.

I was stirring coffee with the determinism of a cement mixer when the spoon glanced up—don’t ask me how—and said, “You’re tense, sugar. How about we take this slow?” I blinked. The spoon did not. “You give me your mouth like we planned it,” it added, which was wildly forward for cutlery!

I set it down. “Great,” I muttered. “Even my utensils think I need sex therapy.”

From the living room, my pillow cleared its throat. Pillows don’t have throats, which made it worse. “Hey beautiful,” it purred, “meet me at nine— executive nap. Very platonic.”

By 8:15, my plant was leaning toward the sun like a tiny green life coach. “You know,” it said, “I grow when you stare at me lovingly for a minute.”

That’s when I realized my house had staged an intervention.

But I had chores first - feed the chickens, check cattle, light a fire...

I heard a faint sound rustling from the broom closet. The broom?!  Shimmying like it had hips! “We’re sweeping, babe,” it announced. “Slow. Sexy. Rhythmic. Like cleaning, but with oxytocin.”“I’m trying to be productive,” I protested.“So are we,” said the broom. “Except our deeds include joy.”

I did what any self-respecting adult does when their household develops personality: I hid in the bathroom. The mirror was waiting.“Hey trouble,” it said. “You come here often?”

And then that voice inside—the one I usually ignore because I have eighteen tabs open in my brain—cleared her throat.“You can’t do it all,” she whispered. “You gotta do what really matters…and that includes you.”

The mirror hummed along “… stay'in alive.”

I left the bathroom feeling called out by myself, which frankly should be illegal. The chair in the corner beckoned like an expensive therapist. “Sit,” it said. “I got you. Literally my job.” I sank in, suspicious. Instantly, my shoulders went from “boulder cosplay” to “soft bread.” Huh. The chair hummed as I tied my boots, pleased with itself.

I picked up my to-do list - crinkly and contrite. “Look,” it said, “Here's my offer - give me three things done today, and I’ll give you three things that feel like you.”

And that became today's groove - 'flirt with the ordinary'.

Reader, I winked at my reflection. And then I went outside to get my chores down (with proud joy;).

I played a raunchy song and danced in my ranch clothes. It was awkward at first, but then I found my swagger. My feet remembered they were attached to a woman, not a task list. I laughed and teased the animals at the barn. I even praised my thighs for their tireless commitment to locomotion. At noon, I kept my date with the pillow. Ten minutes. Eyes closed. Breath in my ribs. A small, private rebellion against the cult of eternal productivity.

The rest of the day unfolded like a rom-com where the lead character dates her own life. I still did work. I just did it with myself, not against myself.

Tonight, I will stand in front of the mirror—the honest one, not the funhouse in my head—and say, “You’re not crazy. You are wild- there's a difference.”

Moral of the story: Badassery isn’t barking orders at life—it’s winking at it. It’s flirting with the ordinary until your power purrs. It’s choosing pace over race, influence over control, and tiny pockets of joy over heroic martyrdom.

And if your house ever stages an intervention?

Listen. Your chair might be a better therapist than your calendar.

Try it! Pick one mundane thing today—and flirt with desire for sixty seconds. Then do the hard thing with a pocket of joy. Notice how much easier it is when your body’s on your side.

PS: If this made you smirk, my 3-day

Selfcare Challenge is your jam. Five minutes a day, zero perfection, maximum glow. Come play. 🌶️💋