I spent yesterday cleaning out my garage—or at least, the building that would be a garage if my driveway wasn’t weird and I could actually get a car up it and through the doors—because in the two years I’ve lived here it’s become a giant storage shed full of stuff I keep thinking I’ll maybe use some day. Who am I kidding? Other than the lawnmower and some camping equipment, I ain’t using anything that’s out there. Since we’re all stuck Quarantinalandia right now, my daughter and I decided the storage building/notgarage should become a weight room—after all, our gym has been closed for weeks and who knows when it…

I’m not going to spend a whole lot of time talking about physical decluttering, because Marie Kondo literally wrote the book on that, and she covers it in pretty extensive detail. Contrary to all the bullshit memes you’ve seen, Kondo never said you should only have thirty books, so all you bibliophiles don’t need to message me to tell me how awful you think she is. Instead, she says that she only has thirty books — and that you should eliminate the ones that don’t bring you joy. If your 9,263 books ALL make you happy, keep ’em. Marie Kondo doesn’t care, and neither do I. All of that said,…

It’s recently occurred to me how much I enjoy the topic of self-care, which seems to somehow be viewed as a radical act of rebellious social anarchy. In some way, we’ve been conditioned to the idea that it’s just greedy to be focusing inward rather than outward, and so when we stop to do crazy bonkers shit like set boundaries, say no, or eliminate asshole people from our lives, we’re seen as selfish. I got a plot twist for you, my little sugar plums. Self-care isn’t selfish, it’s self-transformative, it’s self-empowering, and it’s self-sustaining. And the more you learn to accept the radical notion that it’s not only okay but…