A catalog of the stuff in my apartment
Somehow I have come to a point in my life where I own no comfortable underpants. Every time I reach for a fresh pair—i.e., every morning—I think, Ugh, you again. I suspect this accounts for my negative outlook and frequent bouts of irritability. I wear boxer briefs, which is typical of me. I never could […]
My husband, Frank, and I recently took a guided bike tour of Boston. Somebody gave us a gift certificate for the experience when we were leaving New York. The second I mounted my ride, I told the wiry woman leading the tour that the seat felt too high, but she thought it looked fine and […]
The clothes hangers in my apartment are like the Duggars of TLC: There’s a lot of them and they don’t really work. (Seriously: Do any of those people have jobs? Like, I get that their actual occupation is being on that horrible show, but do the parents or any of their multitudes of grown-ass offspring […]
Indirect Objects 