The Thread

I have this place I love. I go there often. It’s open 24 hours. I don’t need to wear a bra, shoes or makeup. I never know if anyone else is there but I can come and go as I please. No one cares if I have to run out to get a sippy cup or put a kid to bed and come right back.

There I can vent.

I can say wildly inappropriate things.

I can cry.

I can call my kid a jerk and be greeted with “yes, yes they are”.

I can overshare to levels I didn’t know existed.

I can get medical advice.

I can get martial advice.

I can talk about poop. So.much.poop.

I can laugh so hard I pee myself.

I can feel love from thousands of miles away.

You see, I have this iMessage thread in my phone with 3 ladies. 2 of which I have never met except for FaceTime. It’s like having a GNO in my pocket. On my walk to daycare. On the drive home from work (passenger…don’t call the cops). While I feed the baby. We are in different time zones and most of the time it is a bad time for one of us but it doesn’t matter. We all catch up at the end of the day and laugh and cry together. The party continues after my lame ass is in bed at 9pm and I often wake up to 50+ missed texts. It really is magical what technology has given me. Thanks, Apple. Verizon would shit a brick if they knew how much money they would make off those texts.


Yes. It took me over 5 minutes to be able to get a screenshot that didn’t incriminate someone..and this was it. Winning?

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