Three Hooks, One Coat, One Question
March seventh. The camera has been in the bag for four months, carried on walks, to the maker's market, through the whole back half of last year, and I have not used it once. Not…
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What the Coat Looked Like When I Actually Looked
February twenty-fourth. The coat was on the hook. It has been on the hook every morning for four months, longer, probably; I stop counting when a thing becomes a given. I was head…
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The Mug Got Its Picture Taken
February thirteenth. There is a version of this I did not write, the one where I explain, carefully, all the reasons the camera stayed in the bag. I have been drafting it since Oc…
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The Tab That Closed While I Wasn't Looking
February second. The cooking class ran six weeks. I went once. That was October, and I wrote eleven days after the fact about the pasta water, what it actually meant, why it had s…
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The Mug on the Sill
January twenty-second. There is a version of this post I have been writing in my head since October, maybe earlier, since the third walk when I carried the camera and came home wi…
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What Two Weeks Off Costs You
January eleventh. The Tuesday sessions resumed this week, which I knew they would, and which I had been quietly dreading in a way I kept not-naming until I was standing at the bas…
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The Last Tuesday of the Year
December thirty-first. The Tuesday sessions end the same way they always do, gear returned or shouldered, the same ten seconds of standing near the exit while you decide if you fo…
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I Looked Up Whether Defying Gravity Is Possible and Lost Two Hours
December twentieth. The plan was simple: finish the movie, be in bed by ten. The movie in question was Wicked, which I had already seen and was rewatching because it is December a…
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The Call Ran Long
December ninth. The apartment goes quiet in a specific way this month. Not the usual quiet, the building settles, Gerald does nothing, the windowsill holds its arrangement the sam…
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The Corner Booth, After Hours
November twenty-eighth. Simone turned thirty-six this year, and when I asked what she wanted to do she said a good dinner, which meant exactly what it sounds like: a real restaura…
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