It was something I was told a thousand times growing up. If you’re going to go out, leave a note.
By my mother when I was staying at my parents’ house. But not just her and not just there. Everywhere. At all the other places I stayed. Friends’ houses. With other relatives. » Read more
“I wanted to ask you for a favor, if you don’t mind,” he says.
“What’s that?” I say.
“I need to pick up my car tomorrow,” he says.
“And you want to know if I can drive the other car home,” I say.
“Yes,” he says.” “Well, » Read more
We’ve all been there. Driving down the road. Minding your own damn business. Just trying to get where you need to go — when the check engine light comes on.
It could be anything. Something easy to fix like a loose gas cap. Or it could be something far more serious. » Read more
crumple zone: noun
a section of an automobile body designed to absorb the force of an impact in order to protect the passengers (Merriam-Webster)
a part of a motor vehicle, especially the extreme front end and rear, designed to crumple easily in a crash and absorb the main force of an impact (Google)
I’ve written a few times about polyamory and emotional labor:
I’m yet to find a polyamorous relationship system that extends beyond a few folks that hasn’t occasionally run into these patterns of uneven one-sided emotional labor. » Read more