It is a stack of unread New Yorkers dating back to June 30, 2008. I will not throw them away, because I'm planning to read them. In chronological order, of course, because that is how they were meant to be read.
What I'm trying to tell you is that I microwaved spinach for dinner last night at my one-day-a-week job. The results? Flaccid. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
For example, winter. Anyone who says that puppies don't need parkas doesn't know what he's talking about. I'm looking at you, the yachtsman.
