ST Fitting

I remember the first time I tried to gussy up my place for the holidays—somewhere between the wonky garland and the half-baked wreath, I realized I had the decorating skills…

I’ll admit it—I once ignored a washing machine so long that it grew its own ecosystem, complete with a mysterious sludge that could’ve starred in a sci-fi flick. Not my…

Moving out. It’s like trying to walk a tightrope while juggling flaming chainsaws. I remember my first time—an unholy mess of boxes, misplaced keys, and a mountain of bubble wrap…

I remember the time Aunt Betty showed up unannounced, like a storm cloud on a sunny day. There I was, knee-deep in engine parts, when she knocked on the door.…

Ever had that moment when you walk into your own home and the air hits you like a soggy sock? That was me last summer, standing in the doorway, scratching…

I’ll be honest, cleaning windows is about as thrilling as watching paint dry, and I should know—I’ve spent more time elbow-deep in engine grease than wiping glass. But there was…

I once tried to set up a reading nook in my garage, thinking I’d create some literary haven amidst the chaos of carburetors and socket wrenches. Spoiler alert: the smell…

So there I was, standing knee-deep in my basement, surrounded by boxes of who-knows-what and the unmistakable smell of mildew. The one light bulb swinging from the ceiling was doing…

I once sat staring at my computer screen, the digital equivalent of a junkyard sprawled before me. Files named “final_final_version3” and photos of questionable angles from years past cluttered every…

I once stood in front of my shed, scratching my head like a monkey solving a Rubik’s Cube. The place looked less like a storage space and more like a…