I’ve peed behind dumpsters, on beaches, in alleys, gardens, parking lots, yards—and yet I was here, in this bathroom, I-can-pee-anywhere-ing in a space created for people who can’t.
I don’t know what home means without you.
Cognitive functions deteriorate with exhaustion; I once hallucinated midnight bicyclists and figures running through the woods after summiting Mt. Rainier.
Want to know about other types of spaces? Of course you don’t. I’m gonna tell you.
I’m committing to following this path as best I can, although I can’t see the turns ahead and everyone disagrees about the map.
When Joanna and I bought groceries the next day from a store unironically named Winn-Dixie, the cashier chatted with us about our beer and asked, “So what are ya’ll doing later today?” in a way that made me feel rude for not including her.
With a little out-of-the-box thinking, you can find just as many opportunities for meaningful connection on the 9-to-5 side of that pesky diploma.
Do you have flu-like symptoms? Do you feel tired all the time? Do you feel just fine? If so, you might have mono! Who knows!
We ruined Settlers of Catan that night, which isn’t all that different from how I’ve ruined everything else these past few years.
One hit to the torso killed you dead. Three hits to the same limb chopped it off. Head shots were off-limits by parental decree, but if they happened on accident you better recover quick before Calvin jabbed you in the belly with a two-handed sword.