Last week, I slogged my way through the five stages of grief, and I did it all mostly in one of two robes. It was fine. It served its purpose. There were children here, and still are, so I would shower and change into a respectable pair of stretch pants and clean shirt around noonish. …
Tag: hair
I Brushed My Hair Kind of: An Ode to Self-Care in Times of Solitude
Silk Pillowcases and Donuts: I Should Really Brush My Teeth.