Some days I want to tell you about my day, and I’m like, well, I made a killer spreadsheet with a super complicated formula where you type in one number and four complex other numbers get spit out, and it’s really cool.
Oh, for nerdiness!
OK, I was quarreling with someone, and we smoothed it over and it’s all good now …
Um, too much information.
How about this: I roasted some old grapes and made a really yummy dish for supper.
Sorry, you’ve already shared a weird recipe like that.
I did a kettlebell workout this morning, and my butt is killing me!
Chirp. Chirp. Is that crickets, I hear?
Ah, the weather? How about I tell you about the weather?
Bor. Ing. Hello? Anybody awake in there?
I’m reading this great book–
Another book review? Really?
So a mechanic, a rabbit and a transvestite walk into a bar …
Right. A joke. No.
OK, I had this philosophical conversation with a deep thinker about how home feels, and I can’t recreate it for you without a lot of back story, and I know I won’t have the words to really convey what he meant when he said a certain road reminds him of youth, and eating at a local restaurant doesn’t just mean comfort food, it means comfort. And while he was describing this, I was thinking that exact same place that feels like home to him feels like a wind-whipped prairie I only wanted to run away from for me.
That was my day. A whole bunch of inconsequential stuff that added up to good things in life. But they don’t make much of a blog post.