I don’t have an essay for you this week. I had jury duty on Monday (one of my usual writing days) and then had to spend the time I had set aside to write Thursday (the other writing day) taking my computer to the Apple Store because I managed to spill some liquid on the keyboard (a long, embarrassing story). So all I’ve got is 10 Things, but they’re a good 10 Things.
This made me laugh, but I was unaffected by the outage.
As I have already explained, I had jury duty this week. It was a fascinating experience and I couldn’t stop taking notes about the people around me. I kept thinking, this would make a fantastic TV show. When I came home after not being empaneled, I found out a show called “Jury Duty” already exists. It’s from 2023 and it’s hilarious. Did everyone but me know about this? Prior to this week, I would have said this show was ridiculous. I no longer believe that.
Artist and author Austin Kleon and his family are pretty religious about their regular movie nights and talks about what they watch in his newsletter. Here, he shares a dozen things they’ve learned from this ritual.
This Washington Post article explaining how smaller houses can lead to happier lives was fascinating.
My brilliant friend and colleague Sara Shukla wrote this fun piece about everyone’s favorite hockey show: “Heated Rivalry.”
I loved playing around with this calculator, which uses your name and U.S. census data to guess how old you are.
These cool “walking aprons” (so called because the bottom half is split like pants) were designed for potters, but I can see how they’d be perfect for so many other things (house painting, gardening, baking). I don’t do much of any of these activities, but I thought you should know about them.
If you’re as desperate for some good news as I am, you’ll enjoy this piece about 2025’s medical breakthroughs.
In this podcast from the folks at IDEO (a design and innovation company), 20 creative leaders share their best advice for the new year.
And this week’s poem:
Things I don’t say to strangers I used to know
—Victoria Hutchins
I know we’re strangers now, but I still peel mangoes
using the rim of a glass like you taught me. I still get
the Number 6, no egg, at the Thai place on Franklin.
But I eat both spring rolls now.
I can still hear your voice telling me that a person
doesn’t really die until they’re thought about
for the last time. I still feel bad for making you cry
in the grocery store parking lot about my off-brand
Cheerios. I still worry about your brother. I still do
my eyeliner the way you showed me. And I still hope
you slow down on the highway. Maybe you do now.
I know we’re strangers now but if I ever hear you’re
in Houston, I’ll buy real Cheerios, just in case. I know
we’re strangers now but if you die before I do,
I’ll keep you alive.