I live with a pastry chef. It is as magical and dangerous as it seems, given that I have the self-control of a labrador puppy when it comes to tasty things sitting on a table low enough for me to reach.
I cried at 2pm on Monday.
Nothing weighs down the feathers of your everyday problems like immobility. Flooded email inboxes and fussy clients and capricious internet speeds are all fun and games until it’s 7pm and you can’t go for a run. Now, all of the sudden, the world…