You clip coupons, buy in bulk at off-price stores or thrift shops. You learn to nap in snatches, like a cat. You live out of laundry baskets, one basket for clean stuff, another for dirty. Whatever you wear to work, it requires no ironing. Forget jewelry, other than your watch.
Jewelry takes real thought to pull together and put on.
You let your car turn into a rolling landfill of plastic cups, used tissue, lost parts of forgotten toys. You form instant but transitory bonds with strangers known to you only as somebody else's mommy. You trade war stories and seek helpful hints on child-rearing the way your mother once read Heloise in the feature section on how to get spots out of the rug. You give up on getting spots out of the rug. You giggle at thoughts of cleaning the refrigerator.