After my husband died, I realized I needed to downsize and start over. But I didn’t want to. My stuff was my history, my identity, my nest and my friend.
I feel like my aging from 40 to 60 was an achievement, a master class in change management. In those two decades I earned my PhD in me.
Now we know Ben Franklin was wrong, the time is money formula fails to factor in both the benefit of happiness and the cost of unhappiness.
Apparently phone addicts get hooked on the repetitious movement of tiny images and lose control of their eyes the way a junkie loses control of her limbs.
Enjoy them as a snack, grind them into flour for cookies, or surprise your guests by sprinkling them over the green beans.
It took a while for me to get used to posting pictures of myself, but I quickly learned that people will scroll past blocks of text. I’m a writer. I don’t exist if you don’t read me.
I’m doing a scientific study in my apartment, tracking the lifecycle of a dust bunny, trying to understand how they reproduce so quickly.