The Bizarre Reason I Didn't Write My Substack Last Week

Last Friday morning, as I was leaving body pump1, I found a Spiderman charm in the parking lot. It’s not the sort of thing I would add to my shadowbox, but I received it from the universe, all the same. A defacto good luck charm at a time when I would take whatever I could get. I grabbed a few things at Kroger, ate cereal at the kitchen island while completing an administrative task, then went in to take a shower. Normal-type stuff.

My post-shower plan was to head to The Brew to write my weekly Fat Tomato Summer email, something I was energized to do. As always, I’d been thinking about it for days and planned to write about Quiet as my weekly fat tomato2. I worried it was too boring a topic, but my reality suggests that quiet is, indeed, what has saved me for the past two sadly weird weeks, and I’m nothing if not brutally honest, even when that translates into a giant yawn.

I queued up Gracie Abrams and hopped into the shower. And that’s when things got weird.