Everything Happened

tens of people want to know

From the pink bathroom, last day on Cedar St. I’m sitting at my second PNC bank location of the day on the east side of Cleveland and Banker Shawn with a w is hesitating over my request. I’m nervous. It’s 5:16 and he mentions that it’s a good thing I came in when I did because he is supposed to leave at 5:30. I hear this message as both sincere and coded. Shawn wants to get the fuck out of here but also Shawn knows he is the most capable person at the branch.

There is an inch of chili crisp left in the jar.

I didn’t know that kids spent their spring breaks off school doing anything besides helping their moms sweep out the garage until my friends had kids, and those kids reached school age, and suddenly everyone was spending that week in April or March at a beach that required two airplane flights. Huh???? This isn’t even about class because my upbringing was soft as hell.

It’s too late in the month of January to do year-end reflections, I realize that, but I hope you will still take a step back in time with me to the recent past. It was the last week of 2025. Many of us, having gorged ourselves on Christmas, that vulgar beauty, were now floating in the dirty tepid bathwater of the final days of December and getting piss drunk on the scroll.

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Last week, (well, exactly beginning December 1), I started posting little squares of construction paper bearing handwritten tasks to my Instagram Stories. I referred to it as procrastination advent and immediately you good people were in my DMs prancing around all Jack Skellington with your What’s this? What’s this? Some of you wanted to know the details so you could do it yourself.