Journal of the Plague Year, Day Three Hundred Sixty One: Can we try with real bullets now?
I have, at the very best, a sordid history with housekeeping chores. Now, in fairness, I have lots of sordid histories, most of them emotionally-unavailable brunettes. In this case, though, I feel like the word “sordid,” with its connotations of dirt and squalor, is much more fitting than in most of those cases. Toxic codependency […]