I sent grey-haired guy occasional mental double finger guns with ‘chk-chk’ sounds and virtual high fives in solidarity from across the room.
Most of the pieces we owned were either examples of altered-state decision-making, or stuff someone gave to us, left to us, or hid in our house to be found later
Our kid had to self-quarantine last week after being exposed to the Scourge. We weren’t surprised. He’d gone a month employing the kind of measures one does against such an eventuality when one exists in the era of a global pandemic but also just turned 21 and by rights should be living his best life. […]
Snakes aren’t known as being helpful in the therapy world. Although some ARE known for hugging, it’s only to suffocate and eat you.
Trouble is, it takes a lot to keep the damn dog out of that fountain. The trees dump junky tree stuff all over everything 365 days a year, and most of the time I spend out there is time cleaning up before we can have a relaxing cocktail on the patio.
Thirty years from now, this will still make no sense: Love, work, and productivity in the quarantine era
We share a good laugh over social constructs like weekend because time has no meaning anymore and we don’t even know what day it even is right now.
If you’re Indiana Jones, adventure may be eyeball soup or snakes on a plane.
“To Whom it May Concern”, the note said, “this crystal is to go to Shelly and Gene, the stemware and all the rest of it you can divide up amongst you three.”
We kind of expected the pound lady to be an expert in this area, although at the time we could see with our own eyes she wasn’t a Labrador (the dog, I mean. Not the pound lady… who I guess we could also see wasn’t a Labrador either).