MATTER OF CHOICE
It’s time to pull back the curtain.
I’d like to pretend that I’m writing this column sitting on a beach sipping my second sorority-approved frozen drink. While I’m at it, I may as well pretend that most of y’all are reading this from someplace besides the bathroom.
As is often the case, reality is much less sexy than fantasy. Right now, it’s 4:53am. Yesterday’s microwaved coffee is on my nightstand because I’m too tired to make a new batch and too uncivilized to care. My hound dog is sprawled across my feet
