Dear Readers:
I woke up this morning in a pool of sweat again.
Lately my night sweats are so severe that when I am woken up by the wet to change my nightclothes (at least twice when I’m having a really bad night) I look as if I had just sprinted ten miles.
Copyright 2015 Jack Ohman, aka the most brilliant political cartoonist in the history of the craft.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Here we go again.
Dear Readers:
I am feeling profoundly challenged by my latest question from a reader. This has got to be the most complex and troubling issue I’ve tackled. “I got drunk and fucked my boss” is a serious problem to have, but not like this.
(Featured image credit: Illustration by Christoph Niemann; Map by ZIGGYYMAJ /Getty)
Dear Readers:
Unless you missed Tuesday’s column or have suffered a traumatic brain injury, you should recall I began answering a question submitted to me by a Portland woman who is anxious about the “Cascadia Earthquake.”
Let’s refresh your recollection with a link:
(Featured image credit: Illustration by Christoph Niemann; Map by ZIGGYYMAJ /Getty)
Dear Readers:
This letter will be handled in two parts for two reasons:
1. The referenced article in the New Yorker made me climb under my bed yesterday and whimper for six hours; and
2. The issue presented is new to me, challenging, and demands solid research and thought.
In other words, unlike most of my advice this one cannot be winged. Wunged? Whatever.