So, where was I? Or rather, what part of the story to tell next? This is not a linear tale, if you hadn’t noticed.
From 2011 to 2013, I worked in a gray, dingy warehouse-turned-headquarters for NAPA Balkamp. (Nothing about that job suited me, as it turned out. However,
At Christmas, my mom cut my hair for me. Something about sitting in a chair while someone combs out my tangles switches my confessional switch.