For the last six months of my twenties, I imagined I’d be learning how to start a fire, mastering the art of folding fitted sheets, and experimenting with how best to clean the house in under fifteen minutes for unexpected guests. That’s what this book thinks I should know.

It hasn’t happened. I did learn how to start a fire in our wood stove, but I haven’t applied that knowledge practically. Fires are too scary. And my lumpy fitted sheets – really, who cares? As far as cleaning the house in under fifteen minutes, well, I’ve been toying with that marathon since I had a house to clean, and I don’t think I need a book’s advice on how to throw unfolded laundry in the closet and prioritize by scrubbing the sinks and toilets. That’s instinctual, that is.

I will turn 30 on Sunday with absolutely no help at all from a book, and what I’ve learned thus far in my life will serve me just fine.

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The kids art gallery will be postponed until next Wednesday. I have some amazing pieces already to include, but would like to give the artists’ supporters a little more time to gather their masterpieces. If you’re interested, check out last Wednesday’s post for details.