don’t

in retrospect it is kind of funny and quaint how my whole life myself, my entire extended family, and my friends would refer to what i later found out are the symptoms of my debilitating anxiety disorder as “jane’s nerves”

i love how my little dog snuggles under the covers with me every night, wriggling and jostling with unabashed entitlement until he’s assumed an approximation of the little spoon position and pressed his fat body to my side with just the end of his snout peeping out from the comforter like a periscope. there’s a big sigh and then a few minutes later some gentle snoring or huffing in his dreams. i love him so much i cannot imagine an interloping partner attempting to interrupt our contentment ritual with their presence.

internet was being slow as hell so i ran a speed test and it produced more questions than answers

my neighbors have some sort of jazz? ska? band? maybe? lots of horns and drums and bass and singing and perhaps rapping. the ancient rowhouse walls are thin and there’s a stereotypical mousehole in my basement landing apparently leading to their place and when they practice i get stoned and its like the mice are jamming funky shit for me

the kid i nanny snuck a sticker on the back of my shirt and when i finally discovered it i was once again blown away by her comedy instincts, esp considering she cannot read