My hourly nose-blowing rate has dropped by 36% since this time yesterday.
My hourly nose-blowing rate has dropped by 36% since this time yesterday.
I sense that my co-workers are tired of hearing me cough. (At least that’s what one of them said.)
Almost five hours worth of snot left on the gravel roads of Iowa this afternoon. Good times.
I am hiding from the food. Don’t tell the breakfast pizza where to find me.
Cold over. Drinking coffee again. The world is no longer upside down.
Me: You ate that meatloaf without crying, good boy. Six-year-old: I was crying inside my brain.
The dark, cold winters require one to search for inspiration in unexpected places: sitcoms, Judy Blume, in-laws, underbrush, your own heart.
Worst part about a head cold — makes good coffee taste bad. Truly, the work of the devil.
If you want your website to “Go Live”, it is not enough to send me a meeting invitation, “Website Launch Wed, 9:00-9:30”.
We’re wasting our time reading to children. We should be reading to each other.
Mild OCD … spending 90 minutes recounting the syllables in your twitter haiku.
tw-aiku:
Coming summer fades.
Through curtains of falling snow.
I cannot see March.
How to teach your son to properly put on a stocking cap: Step one — do it for him.
These pretzels are making me thirsty.
Wish the office vending machines took my ATM card.
