My sister, an RN with thirty years of emergency room experience, told me that the next time my heart starts beating erratically and I feel myself losing consciousness, I am to slap myself as hard as I can.
Sound medical advice or latent sibling conflict?
I wonder.
They told me not to go hiking or to the gym, but no one said anything about dancing.
It’s been a long time since my last bee sting / flat tire / overdraft / broken heart.
Am I going to die?
*after realizing that the Worcestershire sauce I used to make black bean burgers is at least four years old.
Some days I am Gregory Peck.
It’s not the je ne sais quoi. It’s the je sais quoi.
Whoever wrote that asinine Christmas donkey song was clearly aiming low, and incontestably hit the mark.
I never imagined that at this stage of my life, ___________ would be so effortful.
The biochemistry of attraction and desire will fuck you up.
Monitoring the path of an approaching hurricane from Arizona is frustrating and stressful beyond what I imagined. I have no busy work of preparation to do: no flashlights to test, no emergency supplies to inventory, no hatches to batten down. All I can contribute is my chafing worry for those back home. Y’all stay safe, please.
Dithyramb 