Sometimes, when I hate my husband, I think about our place in Boston and the night a skunk fell into the basement window well outside of our bedroom. “That’s not a kitten,” John said when I woke him. He went to the rescue anyway, out into the rain and the darkness with a beach towel and an ironing board. I can still see him, soaked and shivering, grinning at me as the skunk climbed out and waddled away. I think about that man and the gorgeous absurdity of that moment, and even when I hate him, I love him. — Cara Byington

Positively Purging-I welcome your feedbacks in the comments and your likes and passing the real life wisdom on to others as I embark on this new venture of “positively purging“, as I know each of these pieces represents something…