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Because the Patriot Act SAYS I can.

Nola’s living in the basement. This isn’t optimal, but her sleep schedule doesn’t yet match Eliot’s, and the basement felt less “DSHS-anonymous-tipline” than the garage. Also, we kind of got over the Preciously Detailed Nursery with the first one, because it turns out babies are tiny design- and color-wheel-oblivious ingrates, and because you get over…


Given our largely improvisational, seat-of-the-pants approach to existence, Michael and I are surprisingly skilled at planning things: fun crap like parties and vacations, long-term projects like getting Amazon to throw some partner benefits my way, even bonerkillers like how to pay for large unexpected expenses. (And yes, Moses, I am looking at your bionic knee,…