Why don’t you plan a gorgeous little escape so that you have something to look forward to during the bleak winter months that never end? Jessica and I are plotting something delicious for next month, but it’s still an entire month away. We are impatient, bored, and hungry, so we are going to scoot down to Kansas City for a day of glorious Waffle House feasting this weekend. Hopefully there isn’t a mountain of snow in the way. I’m so sick of snow. [UPDATE: We went and it was bomb.]


Why don’t you go to therapy and sort out your issues? I don’t think I have all that many, but I can’t stop procrastinating. It’s getting so bad. Like so bad. Like I’m embarrassed. I can’t get myself to do anything at all, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s like a depressive episode or some kind of temporary insanity? I might just be exhausted. If I was a celebrity, I’d go to a hospital spa for the weekend and have an IV drip, but that’s not to be. I have had three days to do a few simple tasks, and I just cannot make myself do it. It’s not hard. I just CANT. Help me. 


Why don’t you slather your entire body in coconut oil and feel as beautifully soft as a newborn baby? Are babies that soft? I don’t know, I don’t have one and I don’t touch the ones I’m around. Not my scene you know? Anyway, there was so much snow yesterday that work was cancelled and I decided that I deserved a spa day. It was my only accomplishment of the day, and it was so worth it. My skin feels gorgeous and my hair is decadent and I smell like a beach. Treat yourself, reader.


Why don’t you move someplace where you can take public transportation and not worry about a car? It’s impossible here in Iowa; I need a car to get absolutely anywhere. I can’t even cross the small town I work without a car or plenty of time to walk. In Paris and Mexico City, I can just hop on the metro and never worry about gas and oil and tire pressure and defrosting and car washes and speed limits. I just read a book and ride a train. It’s genius. I hate cars. My car is in the shop right now, I’m moody.


Why don’t you buy yourself a blowtorch? I was on that Waffle House weekend trip I was telling you about and saw a miniature blowtorch at the gas station. I gasped in delight and decided I needed it to light candles and caramelize sugar. It was a whim, but I think it’s indispensable now. Let me tell you, there is nothing so satisfying as an unnecessarily large butane flame lighting up your IKEA tea lights. It’s bomb. I don’t think that anybody should live without a blowtorch. I never will again. 

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