I stood in the corner quietly fuming. After working a ten hour flight, and not really eating, as crew meals are never vegan, and rarely vegetarian, I was tired and grumpy. The littlest situations would
Today, I caught myself smiling as I looked at Real Simple. The colorful magazine spread was telling me how I should decorate. Decorate a house. Yeah. True story. This girl, excited about nesting?
I’m a firm believer that no one should claim permanent residency at a hostel. It’s just not a home. Same with a flight attendant crash pad. It’s just not normal to only live at
Just write. That’s what I’ve been repeating to myself for the last two days. But what do I say? How much of my private life do I make public? How many secrets should I share this time?