A catalog of the stuff in my apartment
During the summers of my childhood when my parents signed me up for baseball (contrary to my wishes, talents, and fragile sense of self-worth), my triumphs on the field and in the batter’s box were small in number. I was scared of the ball, couldn’t throw, couldn’t hit, and, frankly, didn’t have the firmest grasp […]
My husband, Frank, and I let our dog, Lucy, sleep on the bed with us at night. She prefers to stay on top of the covers, curling up in one of the valleys created in the topography of the bedspread by the humans lying underneath. I like the warm weight of her cuddling except when […]
Indirect Objects 