I take coffee to my colonial porch and watch the sunrise over the Miranda Lambert river valley. An old hound is sunning himself on the porch steps.
Maeve Dunigan is a comedy writer, performer, and aspiring beekeeper based in Brooklyn. You can find her on twitter @maevedunigan.
Spend a luxurious evening in a gorgeous Four Seasons suite with an ex lover of your choosing. You passed right through denial and into anger.
- by Maeve Dunigan
- October 3, 2019
My YouTube yoga instructor says to notice what’s around me (I notice there’s dust and hair all over my floor) then to do what feels good (so I don’t clean it up).
I don’t usually think robots are capable of true evil, but sometimes when I’m waving my hand frantically trying to get a paper towel dispenser to work, I can almost hear it saying “dance for it, stupid girl!”
“The only way out is through.”
—Me, forcing myself to finish the expensive iced coffee that I bought but don’t really like
Catcalling generally makes me feel weird and bad, but one time I walked out of my apartment and a man gasped and exclaimed, “A beautiful woman!” in the same tone a shipwrecked sailor might use when he sees help on the horizon, and it kind of made my day.
You know how magpies will seek out, treasure, and hoard shiny yet useless little things? That is how I act around the seasonal items at Trader Joe’s.
Maeve, age 10: kale is a food I feed my guinea pig. It costs $1 for a huge bag. My guinea pig loves it, but it is all she knows.
Maeve, age 23: kale is a food I feed myself. It costs $15 for a tiny bowl. I love it, but it is all I know.