Thursday night. My husband is screaming at the television screen: “Fuck you, Oprah. Fuck you!”
This is not good. This isn’t something I ever thought I’d have to handle. This goes against the core of me, and my instinct is to push him off the couch and make him stop bad-mouthing my Oprah. It’s like he looked at Dan and said, “I never liked your face.” It’s like he said Jollibee fucked my mom.
He’s upset. Lots of people are upset.
…About books. It’s fantastic. Continue reading