When I was seven, the scariest place in the world was under my bed. It was a double, so there was plenty of space under there for demon-possessed Muppets with evil grins to hide amongst the dust bunnies. I kept my back turned to the edge of the bed, so as to protect myself from…
Book Review
The Geobachelor’s Wife
After nearly 20 years of marriage, my husband and I decided to separate. No, he wasn’t having a midlife crisis, although he had become quite heavy-handed with his cologne lately. I wasn’t feeling neglected, although his idea of a fun Saturday night was Dominoes and House Hunters reruns. No one was drinking excessively, although we…
She’s a rich girl
In the darkness of Room 318, my husband’s gravely snore could be heard over the rattle of the air conditioner. Normally unable to sleep with any kind of racket, I was out like the proverbial light, my mouth agape from the utter exhaustion that comes with moving. Middle-age didn’t help either. Our son, draped over…
The Art of Trash Collecting
Every summer, the beaches of this nation are scattered with people who wander slowly, look quite seriously down at their feet, and bend over frequently. Despite appearances, they are actually not contemplating the prognoses of their bunions, admiring their arches, or watching their toenails grow. For some reason, these people are compelled to search the…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets