Everything

Everything costs money. And if it doesn’t, it costs time. And if it doesn’t, then it costs blood. And if it doesn’t, then it costs your soul or your children’s souls, or your children’s children’s souls. And who knows if there are any souls left after that. What’s worth the price today or tomorrow, your body or your mind? My back hurts from building this furniture. Then I’m going to paint it a beautiful, dreamy blue not really grey, not totally blue one of those muddy colors

When I was away from the office, I moved more. Between chores, kids, errands, and the occasional mid-morning stretch (or dance break), movement just… happened. It wasn’t a workout — it was part of life. Now that I’m back in an office, I sit, I sti a lot. My step count has dropped nearly 50%, and my smartwatch buzzes so often I’ve started ignoring it. I knew adulthood meant moving less, but I didn’t realize how little. 💻 The Trade We Don’t Talk About We dedicate 40+ hours a w

IKEA has mastered the art of flat packs, modular living, and even the psychology of wayfinding — but somehow, the food experience still feels stuck in 1999. I say this with love (and as someone who goes there often for what my family affectionately calls our “night out” ). But every time I queue up for meatballs, I can’t help thinking: why does it take 20 minutes to get food in the land of efficiency? It’s not the food that’s the problem — it’s the flow. The IKEA restaurant c