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?
I may or may not have eaten a stick of butter yesterday.Read More I Feel Good About Myself
There are two folk singers upstairs from me who are singing and using a tambourine and I want to punch them in the face. Does that make me a bad person? Probably. I kid. But I am finding that my ability to concentrate when there are extraneous noises going on around me, well it’s […]Read More Friends Don’t Let Friends Play Tambourine