
My Body Sent a Memo and I Didn't Read It
Last Tuesday at 2:14 AM I googled "am I dying or is this perimenopause." The internet returned both answers as equally plausible.



Witch. Author. Forest dweller.
Messy magic for cynical souls. Essays, spells, and stories from a forest at the edge of nowhere


One badly worded spell. One grumpy Scottish handyman who can't leave. She just wanted her sink fixed—not her libido.
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Her best friend hexed her dating app. Now she's getting matches from 1986. Including her prom date. He still has the corsage.
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She controls everything. The vineyard. Her heart. Her color-coded spreadsheets. She did NOT ask for a chaos agent with an accent.
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She fixed everything—except her own life. Now her hot flashes are fixing things on their own. Badly.
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The nicest woman in Fairhaven never said no. Now her hot flashes are saying everything she didn't. Loudly.
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She's spent her whole life leaving. The inherited house has other plans. So does the parrot.
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Last Tuesday at 2:14 AM I googled "am I dying or is this perimenopause." The internet returned both answers as equally plausible.
