When I was in my early twenties, I took great pride in never owning a suit. After a while I realized it wasn’t worth holding on to. My whole career, I’ve been proud of never having a proper resume. That one, I’m starting to think, isn’t worth holding on to either.
Keeping this house in order feels like its own full-time job.
Another weekend gone already.
A middle-of-the-night interruption, then back to sleep and out until 7:00am for once. Turns out maybe sleeping on the floor in a dusty old house isn’t the healthiest thing in the world.
I spent a good chunk of my day writing about a long walk I took, so I figure I might as well get a second walk in.
Reading my own writing aloud brings up childhood trauma about being made to read in front of the class.
I love walking in the woods when it is gloomy and dim.
I was told that I am “Cheap with money, wildly extravagant with time” and I intend to give this the consideration it deserves, at length, over several days, for free.