I could write a solemn thesis about how my travels are shaping my view of my homeland, but my worst nightmare is accidentally becoming a sanctimonious travel blogger, so instead let me leave you with a brief list of probably-awful American things that I miss in spite of knowing better.
On reading in the 21st century: “God help me if I have to wade through another gratuitous description of the hysterical wife of a put-upon man chafing at the bonds of corporate servitude and his milquetoast children. Give me Eileen and her constipation any day.”
I lived with four of my best friends when we were seniors in college. Our chore strategy was that we lived in filth until someone got fed up and rage-cleaned, and then they got to passive-aggressively sulk everyone else for the rest of the week as a reward.
I don't think about childhood often, but the turn of the year always brings me back to that little burst of pleasure I felt preparing the year's first sheet of college-rule notebook paper, when I wrote the new year for the first time.
It's New Year's and so I've been faffing around — we all agree that "faffing around" is the best British-ism, yes? — with New Year's resolutions. I like to set a resolution or two but inevitably I forget them within weeks, which is fine, since it's usually something like "Accept more social invitations" that is… Continue reading cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day