rn my only reason for living is the ups man at my work who leaves little ghirardelli chocolate squares every time he delivers a package. but he doesn’t even think about me
something about doing the nyt sunday crossword with your family that conjures deep-rooted generational resentment from your brother and mom and also dyslexic habits..that feed into aforementioned resentment. today’s crossword was mario themed and “zuigi” was spoken
the waitress gave me my strawberry milkshake and instead of saying thanks as one does i panicked and said strawberry which she then smiled graciously, shook my hand, and bowed so she probably misheard me. true story and not a figment of my imagination