During a discussion that wandered variously between baseball, probability, and murder, my roommate and I realized that I’m more likely to date a professional baseball player – and a GOOD one – than be murdered by a serial killer. This is an enormous comfort to me.

I think I’m only afraid of those little sprouts that grow on potatoes because the sprouts are called "eyes."

Sometimes I just want to drink a lot of ginger ale. Like, a lot.

Last summer I managed to figure out a way to politely but honestly answer the “weakness” part of the question “What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?” Now when I exhibit those weaknesses at work, I always think, At least I warned them.

I was shopping the other day, and I found a dress that sort of looked like a bedshirt, the kind of thing men in movies about the Revolutionary War are always wearing when they wake up in the middle of the night and light candles and find out that the British are coming. But it was also kind of cute (if that’s in any way imaginable), and I decided to try it on, and it was kind of cute, but I still thought it might be an actual NIGHTGOWN. A nightdress. I thought of looking online and making sure it was indeed intended to be a modern woman's garment, but then I decided it’s probably best not to wear a dress that resembles an eighteenth-century patriot’s pajamas – even if it’s not intended as such.

At work last week, a parent came into my school and handed me a colored pencil she said she found in the parking lot. I feel like this is the most baffling thing that has ever happened to me. The only plausible explanation I can come up with – for why ANYONE would EVER do that – is that she thought colored pencils and schools were like hypodermic needles and hospitals: The colored pencil needed to be disposed of in our special designated trash.

Here’s the problem with shopping at a farmer’s market: I don’t have that kind of patience. Every Sunday, there’s this farmer’s market about seven steps from my apartment, and I go there every Sunday with the best of intentions, and make this loop around the whole thing. And NEVER buy ANYTHING. Because I’d have to make five different stops and have five different conversations and get my wallet out five different times to get what I want. So every Sunday I just give up and go to the supermarket, where I can find pineapple and marzipan and vinegar and pay with a credit card and not have any conversations at all.