Penelope prepares for the collapse of society.
Jack contributes shelving.A question is asked at an inappropriate horizontal hour.
Penelope prepares for the collapse of society.
Jack contributes shelving.
Penelope arrives dressed for dinner with no apparent regard for neutrality.
Jack experiences several internal staffing failures.
Maggie serves dinner under increasingly compromised circumstances.
Potatoes are endangered.
A grip is requested.
A grip is not produced.
Final part of the small moral emergency trilogy.
The system fails.
Penelope attempts to be less weird.
Jack makes several logistical corrections.
Nobody is rescued.
Something does come back.
This one is about what happens when you notice something ugly in yourself and then attempt to correct it using the worst possible internal management system.
Penelope does learn a lesson.
Unfortunately, she immediately makes the lesson weird.
Everyone is trying. Everyone is tired. Nothing technically happens, which is one of the more violent forms of happening.
A system is developed.
The system is deranged.
This one is about a coffee lid, unfortunately.
It is also about the tiny laundering machine in my brain that occasionally takes something morally sticky, runs it through a gentle cycle, and hands it back labeled Respectful Behavior.
Which is inconvenient, because sometimes it is respectful behavior.
And sometimes there is a second thing behind it with its little awful hands on the wheel.
I don’t think shame fixes much. I do think naming the thing can. Or at least it gives you half a second more than you had before – which, apparently, is sometimes the whole moral structure.
Anyway. Coffee lid. A completely normal beverage accessory. Naturally it ruined my life.
A demonstration is requested.
Penelope offers a lukewarm review.
Corrective measures are taken.
Someone says something emotionally devastating on the rug.