I almost feel embarrassed by how regularly I ask people to pray that I’d manage my time well. It’s not a bad thing to ask of God, but I wonder if beneath that prayer is my belief in a future when life will go at one speed. A future I could achieve by making the right decisions, saying the right yes-es and no-s. It would be a new way of living where I wouldn’t ever feel stressed or overwhelmed. I think I’m kind of always aiming for that era.

It was the socks that did it. Socks triggered my existential crisis. Apparently, you can discern between a Gen Z and a Millennial by their socks. Millennials wear ankle socks and Gen Z wear crew socks. I sit on the bed, look at my teeny tiny socks, and embarrassment nestles in my chest like a newborn. I don’t want to be like those Dads in the eighties who moved out to the suburbs and continued to wear their acid-washed jeans while the world moved on. But I don’t want to be like Regina George’s Mum in Mean Girls, trying so hard to fit in with teenagers.