Winter Solstice Blues: How a Broken Bedroom Window Blind Became My Unwanted Alarm Clock
My darkened bedroom alights like a hidden Celtic burial chamber on the first morning of winter, my bed an altar as sleep once again is sacrificed.
My darkened bedroom alights like a hidden Celtic burial chamber on the first morning of winter, my bed an altar as sleep once again is sacrificed.
Get ready to flip that Jean Nate-age, time-consuming beauty philosophy into a beauty routine that fits into the 30 seconds you have to pee.
There's nothing like coming home at the end of the day to a tiny, dingy $800-a-month basement apartment to remind you that your dreams are a sham.
It's not that I don't think you're scary. But this is NYC, and I really need to get a roommate listed on this lease or else I'll have to move back to Ohio with my parents.
While there are many Craigslist jobs out there, this one is unique because it pays well and guarantees you will not be bludgeoned to death during a pagan sacrifice.
Hon… are you there? Pick up? When I get home, I must keep away from kids. No want kids get sick. I'll sneak into bedroom. Turn on Nintendo, if I have strength.
I'm not going to say that the clown is FRIGHTENING, since I'm an adult and being afraid of a Halloween decoration would be silly. But take it down, ok?
I used to worry about the world, about a lot of things, but now that I have a washing machine with a see-through lid, everything seems just fine.
We've both changed a lot over the years, but we made certain promises to each other. Am I mistaken in remembering that on our first date you told me you "like to cook"?
I could not bear the thought of the work required to keep my hedges looking as trim and inviting as all of those hedges my husband had bookmarked and shared with me online.
Kids, there is never a good time to say this, but since it's Father's Day and you're both standing here without rolling your eyes for once, I guess now is good enough: we're divorcing you.
Just last Thursday I was entertaining over 50,000 guests at my bi-weekly “Salute to Bear Traps,” which was meant to be just a fun, casual, and accident-free celebration. Oops.