I love you. I really do. Now go away.
P.S. That was a lie. I hate you.
Yes, it’s that time of year when we have technically transitioned into fall, but where it is still a bajillion degrees outside and mosquitoes still feast on me if I am outside for about a millisecond.
When my daughter was little, probably the most common thing she heard me say was, “Hula hoop!”
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Either (a) that’s a very odd thing to have your child Hula hoop on command or (b) why?
I am a simple person, with simple pillow needs. The other three people in my house? Complex people, with ridiculously complex pillow needs.
Over the past 20 or so years, I have had two pillows. The first one was a fine pillow, probably purchased for something like $3, and it did its job for years, which was to provide some minor elevation for my head during sleep. I didn’t need it to do much more, because during 98% of my time spent with it, I was unconscious. The pillow could have been writing angry manifestos in its spare time and I wouldn’t have cared. I was asleep.
I try to be a courteous driver. And with that comes resisting the urge to become a vengeful road vigilante when other drivers are not.
Granted, if I did go to vigilante mode, it would be super passive-aggressive, where I would do something like leave a note on someone’s car window long after I was sure they were nowhere around to see me place it.