The dogs have been walked, the lawns mowed, and the heat has finally broken.
There is a perfect half-moon.
It is beautiful, provoking, and as always: reminds me of the Death Star.
Except the moon is cut vertically, so it looks like the Seinfeld cookie, or maybe half of that emoji that digitally outs me as a millennial.
I wish I were more in tune with the moon.
I’m not even sure what I mean by that.
Maybe I’m just lonely and so I’m conjuring companionship with inanimate objects.
Oh, shit! Am I a witch? Oh, shit. I just conjured friendship. The greatest triumph of anyone’s mid-thirties. Wow. I don’t even know what to aspire to any more.
*Cut to montage of me and the moon falling in friendship love*
