API Writer

I woke up at 5:14 AM yesterday. Not because I wanted to, and certainly not because I’m one of those “high achievers” who tackles a three-mile run and a green smoothie before the sun even thinks about showing up. I woke up because the neighbor’s cat decided my windowsill was the perfect place for a … Read more

I remember the first morning I officially started working from home full-time. I sat at my dining room table with a steaming mug of coffee, wearing sweatpants, and feeling like I had somehow cheated the system. No hour-long commute, no uncomfortable office chairs, and certainly no awkward small talk by the coffee machine. It felt … Read more

I was sitting on my living room floor last Sunday, surrounded by what looked like a crime scene involving blue yarn and a pair of very sharp knitting needles. I’d watched three different videos on how to do a simple “cast on,” and yet, there I was, tangled up, frustrated, and surprisingly close to tears. … Read more

I was standing in my kitchen the other morning, staring at a bag of whole bean coffee and a manual hand-crank grinder I’d bought on a whim. My electric grinder—the one that turns beans into dust in exactly four seconds—was sitting right next to it, looking sleek and efficient. And yet, for some reason, I … Read more

I was sitting in my kitchen the other morning, just watching the steam rise off my coffee. It was one of those rare moments where I hadn’t immediately reached for my phone the second my eyes opened. No scrolling, no checking the weather, no diving into the bottomless pit of other people’s opinions before I’d … Read more

It started with a kettle. A simple, stainless steel electric kettle sitting on my kitchen counter. I was standing there, watching the little blue light, and I realized I was tapping my foot. I was actually irritated. It had been, what, ninety seconds? Maybe two minutes? And yet, there I was, feeling this weird, buzzing … Read more

I woke up this morning and, like a reflex I never asked for, my hand went straight for the bedside table. My eyes were still half-crusted with sleep, but there I was, squinting at the harsh white glow of a five-inch screen. Within thirty seconds, I knew about a crisis on the other side of … Read more

I was sitting in my living room the other day, just staring at the bookshelves. It’s funny how we collect things. There’s a specific kind of dust that settles on books—it’s not like the dust on a television or a windowsill. It feels more like… I don’t know, historical residue? Maybe I’m being too poetic … Read more

I’m sitting at my kitchen table right now, looking at a small, circular water stain near the corner. It’s been there for about three years. I could have sanded it out, or maybe used one of those specialized cleaners people swear by, but I haven’t. Every time I see it, I remember the night it … Read more

I was standing in my living room the other day, staring at a stack of books that had somehow migrated from the shelf to the floor, and I realized something. Moving these things is a nightmare. Every time I’ve changed apartments, the heaviest boxes—the ones that make my friends suddenly “busy” on a Saturday—are always … Read more