Last week was insanely busy and this week is blissfully still. All I hear right now is white noise and my typing.


Gray hairs have started to appear at the top of my head and I’m feeling a bit mortified. I’m 26 for Christ’s sake. I was hoping I wouldn’t inherit the early gray hair genes my mother battled, but I guess since I inherited everything else from her, it is inevitable. Each hair sticks straight up as if it is growing toward the sky while I whisper to myself, do not pluck, do not pluck, do not pluck.


About Restless Cube Dweller

Most of my adult life has been defined finding homes in unconventional places, and learning to interact positively with others. I've lived in the middle of nowhere, in small cities, in large cities, in the suburbs, and now in Dubuque, Iowa. This blog represents my musings about growing up, moving on, finding love, and eating well in the suburbs and beyond.
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