Hang loose, my goose.

I'm tired. You're tired. Let's all take a nap.

Welcome to The Simple Things, a newsletter inspired by one of my favorite Oscar Wilde quotes. Expect ramblings on the virtues of ironing, lusting after material items, and more unorganized thoughts.

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Can we all agree that being human is exhausting? The amount of tragedy, obligations, stress can feel relentless. And yet, we continue to stand, to move forward. Together. That’s nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

And sometimes, we may opt for revenge bedtime procrastination over quality rest. But who said anyone was perfect?¹

Some things worth sacrificing sleep for.

Accessible architecture for aging spiders (CW: if you have a fear of spiders).

Every time I see a spider or think about them, I’m always reminded of Nikki Giovanni’s poem “Allowables”:

I killed a spider
Not a murderous brown recluse
Nor even a black widow
And if the truth were told this
Was only a small
Sort of papery spider
Who should have run
When I picked up the book
But she didn’t
And she scared me
And I smashed her
I don’t think
I’m allowed
To kill something
Because I am
Frightened

I kind of want this folding picnic table (that also comes with 4 chairs!) so I can store it in the trunk of my car and pull out for picnics and takeout al fresco.

We could all use a little magic these days, don’t you think? I loved reading this 1993 profile on magician Ricky Jay. And more recently, I watched Derek Delgaudio’s In & of Itself on Hulu. It was one of the most unique things I’ve seen in a while in that it was equal parts emotional, surreal, magical, and head turning. The only thing I can say is try to go into it with a blank mind. Then get back to me so we can discuss.

I’ve been following Cup of Jo since I was in high school, back when bloggers were today’s IG influencers. It’s been wonderful to see Joanna Goddard and her team grow and evolve when so many of their contemporaries have moved on or lost their touch. The most impressive thing they’ve been able to do is foster a loving and thoughtful community and they often feature comment gems such as the title of today’s newsletter and this one: “I was waiting in line to pick up my daughter and a 4-year-old girl was with her mom. The little gal was crying and the mom knelt down to wipe her face but the daughter put her little hand up and said, ‘Don’t wipe away my sads. I’m not done being sad yet.’ That got me right in the gut.”

A sloth playing with water.

This tattoo parlor in Brooklyn that specializes in doing tattoos that only last a year.

Are you having allergies or a cold? Now you can find out. ²

In addition to Oscar Wilde’s quote, I found a new source of inspiration for this newsletter in this interview with Nigella in The New Yorker. I feel she’s looking right into my stone-cold, food-loving heart.

N: […] Yeah, people who cook are nurturing, but we’re also controlling. it’s quite interesting that people always read the desire to take pleasure in small things as an optimistic response. Whereas you could say it was the response of a seasoned pessimist. That you grab what you can, and you’re not waiting for the great golden horizon.

TNY: It feels like that old line about how the optimist believes this is the best of all possible worlds, and the pessimist is sure that it is.

N: That’s brilliant. I love that.

When I was reading postmodern British literature at Oxford³, I had to spend time on poetry and HATED it. But lately, I’ve been finding a lot of comfort in it, like the aforementioned Giovanni piece and this one by Billy Collins:

Last night we ended up on the couch
trying to remember
all the friends who had died so far,

and this morning I wrote them down
in alphabetical order
on the flip side of a shopping list
you had left on the kitchen table.

So many of them had been swept away
as if by a hand from the sky,
it was good to recall them,
I was thinking
under the cold lights of a supermarket
as I guided a cart with a wobbly wheel
up and down the long strident aisles.

I was on the lookout for blueberries,
English muffins, linguini, heavy cream,
light bulbs, apples, Canadian bacon,
and whatever else was on the list,
which I managed to keep grocery side up,

until I had passed through the electric doors,
where I stopped to realize,
as I turned the list over,
that I had forgotten Terry O’Shea
as well as the bananas and the bread.

It was pouring by then,
spilling, as they say in Ireland,
people splashing across the lot to their cars.
And that is when I set out,
walking slowly and precisely,
a soaking-wet man
bearing bags of groceries,
walking as if in a procession honoring the dead.

I felt I owed this to Terry,
who was such a strong painter,
for almost forgetting him
and to all the others who had formed
a circle around him on the screen in my head.

I was walking more slowly now
in the presence of the compassion
the dead were extending to a comrade,

plus I was in no hurry to return
to the kitchen, where I would have to tell you
all about Terry and the bananas and the bread.

A gentle reminder to take a moment to remember the ones we’ve lost — whether we knew them personally or not — and to be kind to yourself and others. Don’t wipe away your sads until you’re ready.

1. No seriously. Was it Wanda? Wanda needs to knock it off.

2. For fun and reference only. Definitely consult with a real doctor about your health. After all these years as a copywriter, I can’t quit legalese.

3. An excellent example of how to sound like an overeducated, arrogant nimbus. You’re welcome.