Everyone I Know Keeps Breaking Things
I’m running out of glasses.
Over Memorial Day Weekend, a tree tried to kill me. I was sitting on a park bench with a friend, drinking a few clandestine beers, when one of its enormous boughs snapped off at the trunk and crashed to the ground beside me, its leaves brushing my arm on the way down.
After two terrifying months in New York City, it struck me as darkly funny that I could have survived living in the epicenter of the global pandemic, only to be felled by a random bonk on the head while clutching a Coors Light. My response to the near-death experience was both instinctual and embarrassing: I grabbed my phone so that I could take a photo of the giant branch and tweet about it. But
