Taking stock.
9 thoughts that will either restore or break your faith in listicles.
2025 was halfway over two and a half weeks ago.
I broke a hard rule today: no power naps before 3 p.m. I napped at noon.
4 a.m., Instead of starring at the ceiling, I climbed out of bed and started the day. Slowly. No need to rush. I think it was a post or a video I saw where a well-known photographer mentioned he gets out of bed as soon as he wakes up, as a way to combat depression. Solid advice for difficult times.
Every time I see a post about Swedish death cleaning, an angel gets its wings— and a bag of miscellaneous items goes to a donation drop.
I once practiced karate with a woman who said she always jumped out of bed, eager to start the day. Good for her. She was also a black belt. I’m not a jumper. I’m an easer. I love mornings. I adore them to the point of making, Do Not Fck with My Morning Routine, my Instagram bio, but I ease into them. I am so stealth at this transitioning from Morning to Working, I don’t even notice until it’s time for my espresso break at 2p.m.
There is no such thing as ‘best’. I thought I said it first, but here’s Madonna at the Turner Awards in 2001.
At some point, my ‘silence notifications’ glitched and I banished the phone to the dead zone in my kitchen. It’s all about self-care.
I know exactly one person who has moved back and forth across the country more than I have. I keep telling myself it’s not a competition, that it’s okay to stay in second place on this one. That—and then I make a list of reasons I want to leave, which unsurprisingly, are the same reasons I always leave. The reasons to stay, should I ever voice them out loud, sound like something a stoic might say just before putting on their hair shirt and drinking a cup of lukewarm watered-down coffee.
Say it with me, “I am living a rich and fulfilling life without a toaster.”
Video still, 2017
