Stories of my life
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The Art of Doing Nothing
It’s Sunday morning. The kind of morning that feels suspiciously calm, like life forgot about me for a few hours. The routine is done, kids fed, cat fed, dog emotionall offended but technically fine, kitchen looking like no crime was committed here. I sink into the garden sofa and hold my reward: a cappuccino with layers…
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Midnight, Perimenopause & a Very Dramatic Sausage Dog
It’s 24:00, that magical hour when normal people are deep in the fog of dreams, either being chased by something symbolic or winning imaginary arguments they’ll never have in real life. Not me. At 22:00, I was a responsible adult. I brushed my teeth, dimmed the lights, whispered sweet promises of “tonight we sleep early,”…