I entered into a conversation so circular, my blood separated.
The greatest Valentines Day indignity is buying yourself a bottle of prosecco to drink with your cat, and discovering that neither of you can open it.
Please, you are bringing shame to your ancient weasel ancestors.
I just overheard some passing 8-year-old announce that after only two days of school he has already found a girlfriend, and now I have to unpack the fact that I don’t date at even a third-grade level.
Thanks, Word-Of-The-Day, I’m already familiar with “plateau.”
It’s funny how—especially in small towns—we think of lit porch lights as a symbol of welcoming. I leave mine on so the guy who paints himself purple won’t steal any more of my chairs.
It’s the cat’s birthday today, so we made sure to do some of his favourite things, like birdwatching, eating my houseplants, and shooting a few rounds of pool.
Hi, it’s me, your housebound friend. Since I have years of experience at this, and you lot seem to be out of ideas already, I will be providing you with daily suggestions of ways in which to entertain yourselves at home. Ready?
March 16th: Teach the cat a conjuring spell.
You know, if you keep a pie in each hand, you can’t accidentally touch your face.