Without anybody expecting me to write or publish anything, I shouldn’t feel anxious about writing. — It’s easier to be a writer who doesn’t write. Of course it is — it’s almost always easier not to do something. Knowing this doesn’t explain exactly why, or how to overcome it, so in seeking an answer to either or both of those questions I typed the same sentence…

Why is a woman’s right to decide for her own body even a political debate at all? And what, for that matter, about other rights that have been given to the people in the 49 years since? — The singular upside to not having sex with my husband — because believe me, there’s only one upside — is that I can’t possibly get pregnant. This is good for two reasons: first, we don’t want to have children, and second, my cardiologist finally put me on a statin for…

Why does everyone else think they can decide whether or not he’s doing his fair share? — We’re out of bagels and running low on milk, so I write those down on the list stuck to the fridge and make a mental note to buy groceries this weekend. He doesn’t have any clean clothes for work so I have to do the laundry. Jami’s wedding is this…

Taking Away My Choice Doesn’t Take Away My Right To Choose — Yesterday morning, I picked up a Wendy’s cup from the table by the couch to pour out the leftover drink and throw the cup away. On the side, the Snapchat logo was accompanied by a slogan: “Support adoption in a snap.” Except I mistook it at first glance to say…