Hey there, sweet darlings! It’s Flynn. This morning my coffee pot decided to overflow into puddles all over the kitchen floor. My cat was lapping it up greedily. I had one shoe on at the time. My neighbor upstairs sounded to be running across her apartment and jumping onto the bed. It was chaos. How was your morning?

So hey. I listen to a lot of true crime. Like, more than is necessary. I listen to it at work, when I get home, while cooking, and before bed. It’s getting to the point where I’ve paused and in a moment of clarity asked myself, “Is this a problem, or…?” Nothing comes after the “or” because, yes, it clearly is a problem. Cold cases, man. There’s something about them. I just wanna KNOW.

Often the unofficial office grandma, who is two cubicles away, will wander over to chat about her frankly impressive flower garden. Meanwhile, I’m sitting there with my earbuds in, knee-deep in a grisly murder from twenty years ago. I’m getting good at acting like I’m not listening to something completely unacceptable. I now switch gears from crime to flowers without batting an eye -- the first few times this happened, I was a wreck. I would frantically triple-check to make sure the audio was only playing through the earbuds and not broadcasting to the entire office, because I’m pretty sure that’s an instant “bye, felicia”. I’d trip over my words and nod too much. Totally not suspicious.

So yeah guys, kind of addicted to true crime here. True crime, comics, and watermelon shandy. Yes that is a thing. And yes it will change your life.

★flynn