I see it splayed out there on the sidewalk like the entrails of the critter the cat has brought home for adoration. The new phone book is here. Countless beloved trees killed to make this piece of crap that I do not want and will not use, laid out here like it’s some kind of prize. Great choice, humanity: chew up the lungs of this planet so that we can keep making these dinosaurs that are out of
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A good friend told me that not everyone loses sleep over separating plastic bags for recycling or anguishes over which cobwebs to remove. “That’s nothing,” I spluttered. “What about the kombucha anxiety, the ongoing compost ordeal or the letter to the ants . .
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