From the category archives:

prozac nation

This Might Be A Metaphor

April 3, 2008

My fridge is so dirty that every time I open it, I die a little inside.
No, really, it’s that dirty.
Drips of brown mystery liquid dot the bottom lip, containers of 10-day-old Thai food litter the shelves, and there are about 30 half-full strawberry yogurt containers holding the rejected strawberries that I have to scoop out [...]

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Suburban Banality

January 31, 2008

Long stretches of domestic tranquility, broken by periods of discontent; this is the pattern.
Warm and cozy mornings mixed with querulous afternoons, marked by burnt cookies and temper tantrums. The dirty toilets and sweatpants mingle to create the lingering, pungent aroma of a post-Betty Friedan search for creative and personal fulfillment.
The minivan in the garage carries [...]

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Confession

December 1, 2007

She cried out in her sleep last night.
I waited, held my breath.
Silence.
She cried out again. No, no I don’t want to!
She didn’t wake me. I was staring at the ceiling berating myself when her voice split the silence. I waited a few more seconds, to see if the child would settle.
She didn’t.
I padded to the [...]

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Lonesome

October 13, 2007

Nights like these make me homesick.
Mr. C is away overnight, and I’ve fed, bathed and bedded The Poo. She was unbearably sweet today, playing so well with the other children at the mall’s indoor playground and giving me a million spontaneous kisses.
From the backseat on our way home from a deliberately busy afternoon, she called [...]

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