OMG stop. Just stop. Please. I’m begging you.
Clearly I am allergic to this office. Every day I sit here and sneeze all day. I don’t do that at home.
The other night, Stormageddon fell asleep, head on my chest, little arm outstretched, and I thought, I’m just going to stay here a little bit longer. I’m just going to stay here and wrap myself up in this weight and warmth and just breathe, because I don’t know how much more of this I’ll get.
Man. There’s so much STUFF I want to do. I want to dye my own yarn and raise bees and design knits and go to grad school and learn how to make my own skirts and stuff and more stuff and I DON’T HAVE TIME for pretty much any of it. Cept prolly grad school. Which is prolly at the bottom of my list right now, actually. sigh.
There aren’t many words more fun to say than vituperation. Maybe vituperative.
Naphtali Dagget. What a name.
I am not sure I could live somewhere that didn’t have fireflies.
Why do you always get down to brass tacks? Why not stainless steel tacks? Or thumb tacks? Or carpet tacks? What’s so special about brass?
I have no intention of answering your question.
I don’t care what those hipster mom blogs say. I don’t want my daughter to grow up and say “My mother was my best friend.” I want her to grow up and say I was a good mom. That I did my best and my best was just exactly right. It’s not my job to be her best friend. It’s my job to be her mom.
I don’t know what I just did, but I lost some words and I have no idea what I said.
Oh wait no. I briefly forgot they’re still tearing down the building next door.
No one in a vagina costume is ever spectacular. That’s just a fact. Unless by “spectacular” you meant “spectacularly bad.”
That toothbrush is totally not working out for me.
Miss W says I remind her of Bones, which she swears is a good thing.
I’m tired of hearing about gorillas and allegedly bad parents and you’re doing your holiday wrong and blah blah blah.
Finger. Still. Hurts.
My shoe just fell off and now it’s behind the space heater and that means I have to crawl under my desk to get it and frankly, I just can’t be arsed right now.
Oh my GOD the humidity. Blargh.
Ahhhh. There’s the rain.
Sometimes reply alls feel like a contest for who’s the better, nicer, more awesome staff member. Or something. It’s obnoxious.
“Woman taking midnight shower confronted by heavyset intruder with manbun”
I don’t actually know anything about this Hamilton business.
This chapter is much longer than I thought.
I have never liked rootbeer floats. I do not believe in mixing sweets and carbonated beverages.
“And sometimes I wish I lived in a time where I wasn’t inundated with these daily articles.”
I can safely say that no, in fact, I have never had any desire to lick my cat. And holy wow does that sound wrong.
No, that’s sarcasm, dear.
I wouldn’t want to be ostrich-sized either, kid.
Wait, the Communist Party USA is backing Hillary over Bernie? Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
These two things are seemingly unrelated.
“Our capacity for feeling is in itself an insatiable and bottomless abyss.”