I put in my earplugs to drown out the TV while Katie watches the Late Show. The screen is blank, and I'm thinking about the conversation with Katie's dad over dinner, a conversation about politics, and voting your interests, and cynicism.
Katie reaches over, gives me a look, and then very deliberately types "poop," which, out of respect for verisimilitude, I have left.
One year ago: No Hurry
Two years ago: What Year Is It?
Three years ago: The Usual Epiphany