A few weeks ago I was perusing the Self-Help section of my local bookstore. An unsuspecting employee mistook me as someone capable of “normal” social interaction and asked if I needed any help. I waved dramatically at the shelves and replied, “Oh, so much.” I’ve unsuccessfully searched Amazon and the dark web for niche books that suite my Self-Help needs. My online shopping cart remains empty, and so I am forced to go outside and accost bookstore employees with my unwanted theatrics.
Historically, the New Year has been a time for contemplation, goal setting, and ample self-loathing. The New Year also pressures individuals to meet face to face, often in a public space, with an unspoken expectation (or in my case, specific instructions) to change out of pajamas and wear “normal” clothing. And you may not even like these anti-pajama people - keep pouring that champagne! Life is short, especially in my family due to pesky genetic dispositions. Over the years I’ve politely said
About a year after I moved back to the States, I heard foodies (who were sort of pseudo-self-consciously trying not to sound too much like foodies) talking about sous-vide. Although I've enjoyed food from a lot of different places and had parents with years of Gourmet Magazine on their bookshelf, I had no idea what they were talking about. I was like: Sue Who? They were talking about cooking steak in sous-vide and sous-viding eggs and blah, blah. Steak Sue
“If your husband complains that you’re trying to smother him, you’re not holding the pillow over his face tight enough.” I read that once on a greeting card and it made me laugh so hard I thought I might pee right there in the card aisle of the store. But the truth is, the sentiment also resonated deeply with me. At the time I was married to a man who I thought might kill me. And not with laughter, which