besha
@besha
anxious raccoon in people clothes
Griddle just laid the biggest goddamn egg I have ever seen from a chicken. My hands are not small. If I baked with this egg I’d have to double the recipe.
Griddle has been sneezing since the rain started. She has no other symptoms, and the other hens are fine, so I don’t feel too bad laughing.
I missed out on the limited edition Sleater-Kinney jersey benefiting Planned Parenthood but it’s still riot grrl night
Yesterday my brother sent an urgent message to the family chat reporting that our father has once again made bottle bombs and we should open this year’s pinot noir ASAP. He also sent the security footage.
I have the best hair of my life from going to bed in a wet scrunchie, just in time to spend the day cleaning the garage.
My parents visited for my birthday and we had a lovely time doing yardwork and going to the art museum and the Japanese Garden and the Evergreen Museum where they keep the Spruce Goose which is genuinely mind-bendingly enormous
Have received photo evidence that Scout is happy, and presumably still screaming, downriver. Getting rid of her was the best decision I’ve made all year.
I’d had this in draft for a bit and just writing it was therapeutic but today I finally snapped. So long, asshole!
Drinking my tea, which is half milk and sugar, in bed. I got up and went to the bathroom and came back to a half-empty mug and splashes of tea on the bed next to it. It’s going to be a productive day for Whiskey.
Oh my god I forgot about the egg donor ads in the college news. Rich people reeeeeally wanted white Seven Sisters eggs.
Also to be clear I am extremely jealous and would kill for your hair. But layers are almost always the right move.
My brother, age 17 and visiting me at college, looked up at our Brutalist science center and said “so what’s that going to be when it’s finished?”
oh word, does that mean you’re going to finally reimburse the therapy claims I submitted A YEAR AGO
Goodbye, Stoppard. Your monologue on the fallibility of the transmission of texts has been scratched into my soul since I first fell in love with The Invention of Love a dozen years ago. As has the counterpoint: “We catch our breath at the places where the breath was always caught.”