“You’re crazy!”

I lifted my head, soaking wet, to get a look at my neighbor who just yelled from his screened-in porch. His smile was so big but he meant it. Honestly, hella romantic moment if he wasn’t hella into men.

Meanwhile, Yuna, my dog, kept looking up like, “this doesn’t seem okay.”

It wasn’t okay. I had made a pretty dumb decision—I put us both in danger. But, I have to admit, it was my favorite thing I did all week.

I prefer to run in the rain over any other element.

But tonight it was thundering and lighting—the…


The last time I had a night of calls like this I got see my guy afterwards.

I told him, “Tonight kicked my ass,”

“Get over here.”

I teared up while telling him I felt like I said all of the wrong things during my bereavement calls.

There are days when I can do twenty calls to people, who lost their person 4 weeks ago, and I feel like I’m knocking it out of the park. I feel like the Florence Fucking Nightingale of bereavement.

We call after 4 weeks because this is typically when their support system stops calling…


I meet a woman named M on Friday nights.

M is dying.

Her heart is failing her. She is mostly bed-ridden but she can still take drinks on her own. I am not on mouth-swab duty yet. She does need chapstick yet.

Her room is filled with quilts, crosses and twinkle lights. Her oxygen machine sounds a lot like the white-noise setting my ex used to sleep at night.

She likes to talk what she thinks heaven is going to be like and that gay people are the reason for the approaching rapture.

My job is to make sure she’s…


Tonight I had a call with a woman who just lost her mother in February.

When she answered she sounded like she was asleep. Turns out she’s had three strokes since her mother died and recently found out she has cancer. Her first chemo treatment is on Thursday.

She said, “Can you hear my daughter? She was reading me a story. Will you call back Thursday?”

Yes.

I hung up the phone and sent an email to see if I can break the rules and call her Thursday. Then I fell into my hands and sobbed.

I sobbed that life…


Days like today are the days when I remember the freak that I am.

When I remember that I vowed that I will never let a drop get by me again. That I will lick my fucking spoon and clean my plate.

When I remember the elixir left on my fingers begging to be licked off. The elixir to help you unleash your gremlin.

If you are in my orbit, I can make it feel high stakes. I’m sorry that there is no middle ground for me anymore. I need less rest. I bounce back faster. I stay in the…


I have a friend that tortures me.

He sends me hairless cat pictures on instagram.

It’s one of the most unsettling things that a friend does to me, but I love him anyway.

I love him so much that I cried when he got his dream job. And, he loves me so much that when I told him I was seeing someone, he put his hands to his chest and said, “This feels like the Christmas none of us had.”

He is a gentle bike-riding, web developer who has a huge crush on his fiancé —he is also horrible for…


I don’t know about investments or inflation but the boy with the chiseled features does.

He depleted me because he has a smartwatch that tells him when to stand and when to breathe.

I listen to him tell me what to pay attention to — he thinks I am penniless and for an afternoon I think so too.

After a few songs and a few walks I start to remember the borrowed Tupperware from shared meals with friends. I remember all of my unread messages about getting together, when I’m coming home and making plans in the new year. …


Dear friend,

I’m sorry I spilled over. Perhaps, then, our levees wouldn’t have broken and the town’s businesses wouldn’t be abandoned.

I’m sorry that I made us stay. I’m sorry I didn’t make us sit bumper to bumper on the evacuation route but you can’t drive a manual.

I’m sorry I said nothing bad would happen even though the water was starting to rise in the basement.

I am a fool in that way. I never see the soggy wallpaper or feel wet carpet until it’s too late. This has happened before.

Dear friend,

I’m sorry that I am another…


Good people die.

Death happens to people with plans. To people with dreams. To people who have crushes. To people who have potential. To people who have moms and dads and brothers and sisters and children.

Death can be senseless and wreckless. Your death could be senseless and wreckless.

You could get a green light and someone could run their red light and plow through you—I’ve seen that happen. You could save money to buy a beach house your whole marriage—buy it and then die a year later—I’ve seen that happen.

It's hard to explain this to people who don’t…


Today, do not play make-believe.

The Colorful Clouds of Rho Ophiuchi
Image Credit & Copyright: Amir H. Abolfath

Yesterday I read this excerpt from Untamed -

For a long while I pretended not to know that even though I had only one life, I was spending it inside a lonely marriage.

But, I misread it. I do that a lot — whether it’s ADD, undiagnosed dyslexia, or my cellphone is finally rotting my brain (like my grandmother’s email forwards from 2006 said it would) — my brain sometimes pieces the wrong thing together. I misinterpret colleague emails at an alarming rate. Needless to say, I’m a real dream to work with.

I misread…

Kayla Dugger

a list-making nightmare.

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