The candle flame bent sideways. Not flickered. Bent, like something was blowing on it, and the only thing near it was the bottom of my front door on a 28-degree January night in a 1974 walk-up. My roommate had been sleeping in a hoodie for two weeks and blaming the radiator. Renting means you don’t … Read more
Groceries in both hands keys in my teeth and my left foot landed square on a wet running shoe. The bag split. A can of chickpeas rolled under the radiator and stayed there for two days. That was my entryway in a one-bedroom rental in Columbus. Thirty-two inches wide no closet no coat hooks and … Read more
The ceramic pumpkin hit the floor at 11:40 p.m. on a Tuesday. My roommate came home dropped her keys on the console and the vibration walked a $16 gourd right off the edge of a 12-inch-deep table. That was attempt number two at a fall console table setup a hallway barely wide enough for two … Read more
The wreath hit the concrete at 7 a.m., two days before Christmas, right as my downstairs neighbor was leaving for work. The suction cup hook had held for eleven days before the cold snap made the rubber seal give up. That was the moment I stopped guessing and started actually testing how to hang a … Read more
Thirty-four inches. That was the gap between my front door and the opposite wall, and I learned the number the expensive way by buying a console table that was 16 inches deep, hauling it up two flights, and then watching my own front door stop dead against it. It went back the next morning. My … Read more