1. I love to cook. A lot. But I can't tell you the last time I cooked dinner in my kitchen. We have basically been living off of takeout and quick-fixes for weeks. Maybe even months. Every week, I say I'm going to plan meals, I even make a grocery list. Two or so weeks ago, I even went to the store and bought the things on my list. Last night, I cleaned out the refrigerator and threw 90% of those things away because I never used them.

2. When I can't check Twitter or Instagram for a while, I feel a lot of anxiety when I finally check them. I feel like I've missed a lot. I can't just pick up wherever it opens and continue forward from there. No. I have to scroll all the way back to where I left off and see since then. It takes a lot of time, but doing it any other way just isn't an option.

3. I don't really like the kids and/or dogs of those I don't consider "my people." If you're my people, I could not possibly love your adorable kids or dogs more than I already do. They're basically the best ever. If you're a random stranger passing by with a kid or a dog, please just keep on going. Don't expect me to ooh and ahh and pet either one of them. Because I won't.

4. I don't know how to sew. At all. Even a button. My Mamaw was an amazing seamstress and quilter. Those genes most definitely did not get passed down to me. Not only do I not know how to sew on a button, I probably don't even really know how to thread a needle. (I say probably, because real talk: I've never even tried.) Sure, I took Home Ec in high school, but at my school, we learned things like How to Cook Buttermilk Biscuits for the Football Team on Friday Game Days, not How to Actually Do Anything You Might Find Worthwhile Later in Life.

5. I have no idea how to check fruit in the grocery to see if it's ripe or ready or whatever one is supposed to check fruit for. Example: Cantaloupe. I see it, I pick it up, I look at it inquisitively, I give it a slight squeeze and, sometimes, even a little thump. And then I put it in my buggy. Sometimes, I'll put one back and pick up another one, just because I want to appear that I know what I'm looking for and that one wasn't quite right, but really, I have no idea what I'm doing.

Confessions. Real confessions. The kind you're too embarrassed to admit. We all have them. The question is: Are you willing to put yours out into Internet World for all to see?