Sober Is The New Kale

Every few months there was a pile of papers on the counter. I would give it a quick, neat tap daily to make it appear tidy, as if it belonged there. It was comprised of mail, flyers sent home from school (SO. MANY. FLYERS.), bills, letters I needed to respond to, etc. etc. Simple things that I needed to open, organize, sign, sort and recycle—but to me it was absolutely daunting. (Still is TBH) I call it THE PILE. So instead of tackling this seemingly minute chore, each afternoon I’d whisper “tomorrow” and pour myself an afternoon cocktail…which was inevitably followed by at least two glasses of wine over the…

For the last year I’ve had this niggling worm in my head. I picture him as the little caterpillar who greets Jennifer Connelly with an “Ello” from The Labyrinth– because it’s never not a good idea to meditate on David Bowie and the Muppets. He pipes up in my brain in his thick Bri-Ish accent with a “remember the time you…oh that was horrid. You should be proper embarrassed!” He’s so insistent I pay attention he has become a bit of a nag. He’s unearthed a plethora of alarming super 8 films from my life –of which there are an abundance and each one I would rather forget. They are…