Ugh. by Daisy Eagan

Funny story.  I was sitting on my couch reading I Am Malala, crying.  Sitting on my couch, in my climate-controlled, well-lit, safe, two bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, after eating a giant plate of food I made on my gas stove (for which I didn't have to go buy gas somewhere in town), with my perfect child sleeping in his room, where he would likely sleep through the night, which he has done pretty m…

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