The pleasant, instinctual geometry of pool.


Roadtripping. Particularly with Ms. Mo.


The children of the Glass Family.


Handclapping in songs.



Birds landing on icy roofs that they don't realize are icy.




New windshield wipers.


Crushes, and the way they give weight to the slightest of things: the sleeve brushing against bare arm, the standing just a tiny bit too close, the brush of fingers when handed a drink.


Going somewhere where the people know you.


Lisps. Particularly on unexpected people.


People with cute teeth*.

*Particularly of the corn-teeth variety.


Finding old movie stubs in the jacket you haven't worn for a long time (especially when they're over 10-years old).


Lying naked with someone between crisp, overly-starched hotel sheets.


The sound of cats' nails clicking against hardwood floors.


Overhearing grown men giggle together.


Finally remembering the actor’s name you were trying to think of without having to look it up.


The straggler in a V of geese.


Making lists.


The Seth Rogen look-alike that stood directly behind the high-school band at the Beachland and sang along to every single word of every single song while using his hands to jam out some percussion against the back-wall of the stage.

<-- Spitting image, swear to god


Putting hydrogen peroxide on cuts and listening to it bubble.


Watching people argue in sign language.


When people spill a box of candy at the movie theater and you can hear it rolling down the aisles towards the front of the theater.


When it snows like crazy and there's nowhere you have to be.


Feeding stray cats at 6am when everyone else is asleep and it's snowy and quiet outside.