Another weekend, another fight at the Please Touch Museum. I swear, every fight happens there. My marriage will end, the divorce papers served, in the germ-infested halls of that place.
Ellie was having a meltdown. Her usual new tantrum thing. Jay was doing his usual thing – “I got

Things have gotten better, and somehow worse, in the Mandy/Martin household. After the virus, then pink eye, there was a brief stint of relief. The girls went back to daycare. I did a podcast, went to Ikea, ate meatballs in the cafeteria across from an older woman also eating

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