I remember January 1st, 2020. I was living in Vallejo. People were still blowing up leftover fireworks. I listened to the explosions and thought about how everything in life was reduced to repetition. Nothing ever seemed to change. I was bored but ultimately stagnant.  A few weeks later, I first

$3 to make three hanging pom-poms, DIY-style. I’m usually extremely well-behaved during the week. Between free breakfast food at work and going to classes at the gym instead of happy hours at night, I can get from Monday to Friday without spending too much moolah. Come the weekend, though, and

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I just spent the last few days in bed, sick. In that time I watched three seasons of “Sons of Anarchy” on Netflix and agonized over what to do if it was more than a little bug as I am currently uninsured. I spent a lot of time on the

Sore throat, congestion, a cough that sounds dangerously whooping, and more phlegm than you can shake a stick at comprise my current state of existence. I’ve basically been dying since Monday, but I’m using all my energy to emerge from a mountain of used tissues and Halls wrappers and help those

I am sick. It sucks. I feel like I have been thoroughly bitch slapped by whatever demon virus has invaded my body and after three days of quarantine, I see no signs of relief. Pity me now, please. The first day I started to feel it coming on, I hit

I was supposed to be going home to Massachusetts this weekend to celebrate my mother’s birthday. Unfortunately, I went from kind of sick to seriously sick right before leaving and couldn’t go. Apparently that is something my husband says ‘˜ happens every time’.  So, now I have been sick on

I’m not a religious or particularly holiday-oriented person.  In fact, I might even be a little hostile to the idea that somehow, because it’s a specific time of the year, you should forgive & forget everything wrong in life, and just “be nice”.  Because, apparently, the other 364 days of