The last time I attended a yoga class (to relax), a wound on my finger reopened and it bled all over my mat before I noticed. So not only did I not relax, I stressed everybody else out, too.

I never blundered my way into this particular situation, but it sounds very much like the kind of thing I might have engineered. Says Carrie:

A sad, shabby truth about me: I can’t tell if poetry scans. Truly. This presented a bit of a problem in college as I was, um, training to be a poet.


You might want to subscribe to my free Substack newsletter, Ancestor Trouble, if the name makes intuitive sense to you.