Life in General Hub

It's four inches long, nearly useless, and it has survived three moves. The good pen didn't make it.

A packed refrigerator should feel like safety. Instead it sits there, counting down, asking something of you every time you open the door.

Somewhere between yes and no sits a small phrase we use constantly, and it rarely means what it says.

Why we say 'just popping out' for a five-minute errand, and what that little sentence is really doing.

The first bite is never the real one — and that says something about how we judge almost everything we make.

Some disagreements never move, and yet we keep having them — which suggests they were never really about the thing we're arguing about.

There is a shelf in most homes holding things too nice to use, and we keep adding to it.

Same recipe, same pot, same ingredients — yet the bowl in front of you tastes like something you could never quite make yourself.

An essay on why we keep saying the same things in politics, and what that repetition does for us.

The frantic pre-guest cleanup isn't about the guests—it's about who we want to be when they see us.

Cooking for one often feels like a burden, but maybe it's not the cooking—it's the eating alone.

A full fridge can feel like a problem. Why does abundance sometimes weigh on us?