Karma Penguin

Getting a new phone is supposed to feel like Christmas morning. For me, it feels like a formal audit of every password I've ever confidently created and immediately forgotten. Somewhere in the universe lives a password made by me, for me — and Past me took it with her when she left. I hope she's well. She has not been helpful. This is a love letter to everyone who has ever pressed "forgot password" and felt personally attacked by the results.

I would like it formally noted that I washed two plums today. Two whole plums. I am currently waiting for my parade. Every grocery order begins with the best intentions—beautiful grain bowls, gorgeous greens, maybe even a sauce prepared ahead of time. Then real life arrives. The cilantro gets forgotten. The parsley gets pushed to the back. And somehow, I keep buying it anyway. Because every bunch of cilantro is a quiet vote for the week ahead. Healthy eating habits, it turns out, look a lot like

It's Friday night, and I'm taking the whole weekend off. After the week we've had, I don't feel one ounce of guilt saying that. This week I cut a corner — did something the easier way instead of the "right" way — and absolutely nothing bad happened. It made me wonder how much extra weight we carry because of that one little word: should. Joy doesn't have to wait until everything is fixed. Sometimes self-care just means putting it down and letting yourself have the weekend.