The first and only time I watched most of the Australian Open unfold in real time, rather than via replay, was in 2008, when my doctor prescribed something for a non-intestinal IBD-related issue. A few days later I developed serum sickness, a rare reaction in which your immune system goes berserk in response to animal proteins …
I’ve been remiss in not yet posting about this year’s Australian Open, but I’ve been remiss in all kinds of things lately — it’s been a long last few weeks when it comes to sleeplessness and annoying YOPD problems.* An AO post is hopefully coming on either Friday or Saturday, and a new telefilm review …
It was early in the morning of what was, for me, a rare snow day, when our neighbor accidentally started a fire. I’d been lazing around at home with my ex in a cozy scene of such domestic idyll that its memory could still warm me today if I allowed it to. Oblivious to the …
Have you ever stopped to listen — really listen — to the fervor with which Village People frontman Victor Willis extols the YMCA’s virtues in the band’s most famous song? That’s how I feel about libraries, to the extent that one of my chief house-hunting criteria was “must be located within walking distance of a …
It’s Saturday night — or “Saturrrdaaaaay night,” as one might croon in Frank Sinatra mode — and as Crankenstein showers post-workout and Muriel diligently bathes herself in the living room, pausing occasionally to stare at me, I’m on the couch trying to distract myself from bodily frustrations. For whatever reason, the levodopa hasn’t worked well …
The great birthday flap of 2024 was resolved in Crankenstein’s favor last night, following another of her Houdini-like marital escapes. She returned home at the end of a long and trying day bearing a self-deprecating card, a cake, and a sestina previously written for me. Even for a committed grouch such as myself, it’s hard …
Our first few holidays and birthdays together, I gave Crankenstein a wide berth when it came to gift-giving. She had more important things to do with her time than shop, and I’d rather select offerings for others than unwrap them myself anyway. But I’d be lying if I said her indifference wasn’t eventually insulting. If …
It was 4 am when I heard the first beep. I’d already been staring at the ceiling of our darkened bedroom for what felt like an eternity, unable to sleep as Crankenstein performed her usual overnight routine beside me. Her movement and murmurs provided just enough distraction that I wasn’t entirely sure if the noise …
There are only a handful of birthdays I get sentimental about, none of them my own. My mom and her siblings treat theirs like national holidays, which always strikes me as absurd, particularly an uncle’s custom of taking an entire week off work to commemorate his birth. (Is there really that much to celebrate?!) In …
This should’ve been mentioned in yesterday’s post, but I forgot to share the results of my recent marital poll. “Stay together for Muriel” was the winner, followed by “Remain married and pursue Martha Stewart together.” We’ll take it under advisement, but here’s the thing about dragging someone else into our relationship: I don’t want to …