It Was Nice While It Lasted

My uneven philosophy of living with broken ovens, teeth and toys while rushing my heart to heal.

I’ve always been allergic to fixing things once they break—objects, relationships, or even parts of my body.

The dishwasher stopped working, and it took me six months to call someone. By then, I had scrubbed so many plates that the act of cleaning became a kind of meditation I looked forward to each evening.

When the stove’s heating element gave out, I …