Greetings Darling Ones,

If I were a better, and frankly wholly different, version of myself I would not be here typing next to an open window. Instead, I would be spring cleaning Supergenius HQ, shaking out all the dust, putting away a bunch of Christmas stuff that’s been living on a dining room chair for three months, and unflanneling my bed.

I often lament that of all the annoying traits a human being can have I did not get the clean-freak trait.

Wouldn’t it be grand if I were the kind of person who derived great joy from a dust-free home? A person who could not sleep unless the kitchen was tidy and all the things were put away? Someone who could not start their day until the bed was properly made? Every few years I try to be that person and it makes me miserable. Cleaning is boring and repetitive, which are my two most hated things.

Instead, I am a person who sobbed into my eggs this morning while finishing Amy Bloom’s lovely and devastating In Love: A Memoir of Love and Loss, about losing her husband to Alzheimers.

Reading this thin, stark memoir (it’s 240 pages) was just like the experience I had reading Elizabeth McCracken’s thin, stark memoir (it’s 192 pages), An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination so many years ago. When you’re in the mood for something that will break you in two and put you back together again you cannot go wrong with either of these memoirs by two of the best American writers working today.

Instead, I am a person who strapped cans onto my head and listened to Ana├»s Mitchell’s record for the 30th or 40th time since it was released in January. This isn’t even an exaggeration. I popped over to and it seems I’ve listened to the 10 songs on this album 395 times.

I keep wanting to write about how much I love this record, how it’s lovely and powerful and so damn pretty. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of the any other record I would call pretty, but that word fits the music on this perfectly. I want to write about the song “Little Big Girl” and the way it discusses aging, and how the intensity of the music waxing and waning adds to the unsettling feel of the song.

Instead, I am a person who decided early on in the day to have a frozen pizza for dinner so I can spend a lot of time this afternoon intermittently reading a book I’m pretty sure I’m gonna either abandon or hate while intermittently napping under an open window.

Slothfully yours,

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