In which we confront the truths and varying perspectives of our chosen practice, full bush blazing and self-esteem still mildly intact.

Switching things up with a 97-word fiction piece from my 2013 newsletter archives (how 2013 was 13 years ago is beyond me, but somehow—here we are).

From May’s paid-subscriber email: Many of these questions make for perfect small talk, but the rest land somewhere on the side of unacceptable.

A document drop regarding [Redacted]: KPIs are down at the Complaint Factory, and the hormonal acne requests are piling up.

The aftermath/non-thrilling non-conclusion of getting dragged into a global online conspiracy theory (healing and crying, crying and healing).

From April’s paid-subscriber email: Nine household haiku. I had a dream that / I was a Pilates wife. / Instead, I must work.