I’m not claustrophobic or anything, but I’m beginning to think our place is too small. It isn’t really; we just have too much junk. I could speak only for myself, but I won’t. A few weeks ago, Sarge spent a day or two making the Reading Room look, well, like a room. He put photos up and everything. One of them is actually a collage, because I have a crafty cousin who does that sort of thing. I do not.…
Best laid plans of mice and me sometimes end up on the couch. I didn’t make it to Dad’s today. His instructions on the phone this afternoon? ‘Wrap your menstrual hormones around some ice cream. I’m going back to bed.’ My response? ‘Why are you so NICE to me?’ And then I ate half a bag of Doritos. Because I could. It was mostly air, anyway. And because we’re out of Ben & Jerry’s. And because Mint Chocolate Chunk™ is…
When I was a kid, and Father’s Day or his birthday rolled around, I would buy my Dad a tie. Or a wallet. I wasn’t very creative back then. At Christmas, people would get something from the craft-fair at school. Nothing with glue or dried macaroni on it, because I thought that was a waste of food. But if my Grandparents needed a magnet or a bookmark with a purple tassel on it, they knew I would hook them up…
I have no business going to the library. Or maybe I should work at one. The self-imposed book-buying ban is still on. Sometimes it slips off. Such a tease. I got three more books from the library yesterday, and this is how I’m stacked for summer reading: The Family Fang The Echo Chamber Dandelion Wine The Psychopath Test Cat’s Cradle The Magicians A Discovery of Witches Moneyball The Best of Everything Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda I’d also like to finish…
