Feb 2, 2026

In the summer, my husband and I had reached a milestone: ten full years in a relationship, aluminum trophies to us both. That this had happened came much as a surprise, but upon counting the months between, it appeared that, somehow, this was correct, and not, to my initial response, a fabrication. It became increasingly difficult over the years to listen to my friends’ relationship woes. The further I grew from singledom, the harder it became to relate. After all, relationship advice always came easily to me when I had my own anecdotes to rely upon.

Jan 17, 2026

Last year I turned thirty. It seemed that this should have been an Earth-shattering emotional event, a temporal rubicon. At the very least, I should’ve felt sad as I had every prior birthday throughout my life. I considered it a maturity that upon reaching thirty, my life proceeded along the path it had been on. It was, after all, just another Sunday. 

Recently I had resolved to become a better manager of my own life. During an intense period professionally, I decided in a manic state one Tuesday evening (naturally) to put more effort into the total architecture of the human existence I fortunately had been gifted. Halfway through the present decade it seemed a number of things my parents’ generation had taken for granted began to disappear, and I wanted to grab them tightly before they slipped through my fingers forever.