By day three in quarantine I started to develop some odd symptoms. I initially chalked it up to your run-of-the-mill anxiety attack: racing heart, sweaty palms, brain fog. Then by day four, I was hit with such extraordinary fatigue, I thought I’d been kicked by a horse, dragged behind it for twenty miles (or 32 kilometers if you’re un-American), left to barbecue out in the middle of the desert, doused in someone else’s cold sweat, barbecued some more, then electrocuted by the horse’s owner who was mad at me for stealing his horse, then forced to wear a child’s-sized helmet for the next thirty-two days straight. All while being chased by a mob of angry land sharks.Read More Who Wants Muffins?
You know how people say when someone starts day-drinking, it’s a red flag for depression. My version of that has been, day watching. Lately, you can find me mid-day, binge-watching old episodes of Star Trek while eating burnt home-made cookies.Read More Aim For The Middle