DATELINE: the American Midwest. An innocent man struggles to find parking in Local Biggish City, child in tow, wife waiting at home--and all feeling desperate. Back home, the fridge is empty, save for leftovers of dubious vintage; and the pantry is that curious mix of stuffed-to-the-gills yet containing absolutely nothing. To make matters worse, he is ill, and has taken to wearing one of those uncomfortable blue mask thingies for the good of his fellow man.

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I was planning on making a summer retrospective blog when I had the time, and maybe put out a few reviews on some of the many horse books I’ve accumulated throughout the pandemic. I’m almost as behind on those as I am with revising my to-be-printed works and writing my ongoing stories.

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my mom was asking me for possible examples of what i mean when i said i wanted short hair
so i showed her this example of troye sivan

and then she started yelling at me "SEE THIS IS WHY YOUR FATHER AND I DONT WANT YOU TO GET SHORT HAIR LIKE THAT! BECAUSE IT'S GUY HAIR! THERE IS NO WAY I'D EVER LET YOU GET A HAIRCUT THAT LOOKS LIKE A GUY!"

and aaaaaaa that is very unpleasant

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