When Tired is a State of Being #funnynotfunny

I have a ton of new readers (or at least new Facebook followers who I hope will be readers). I think normal people would be excited about that. I, on the other hand, am suddenly gripped with an inability to write anything because what if they hate me? I think most of you have gotten here via the “The Dishes Can Wait” essay, which was sort of my pinnacle of sarcasm, hyperbole, and snark.

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You Get Therapy, You Get Therapy, Everyone Gets Therapy!

I was thinking I hadn’t felt all that depressed this winter. Then I realized that everyone else is also depressed so I’m only less depressed by comparison. It’s difficult to wallow in this temporary darkness when we are all engulfed in an existential muck. We are all Artax and we’re walking through the Swamp of Sadness. Even the most optimistic among us are Atreyu, at best — doomed to keep up that grim determination lest The Nothing descend upon us all.

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My Family Refuses to Let Me Put a Weeping Angel on Top of Our Tree

I finally, finally won the battle of the Christmas tree.

I recently wrote a piece for HuffPo about my general apathy for the prolonged Christmas season. The whole Christmas tree thing is slightly anxiety-producing on the best of years but this year, with a curious toddler who likes to climb things and I just was not feeling it.

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