Y’all. I have SO MUCH work left to do.
The curse of Netflix is its excessive supply: most nights it takes us half an hour to choose something. While browsing movies last night, my husband chose The Flat based on its intriguing description — and then watched in puzzlement for 15 minutes before realising it wasn’t in fact a thriller.
Every one of us, I’m sure, has been on the receiving end of a variation of this kind of complaint: “Why did you tell such and such about what happened at Starbucks last Tuesday? That’s MY business!”
Imagine walking into a bank. An eerie silence fills the room and you notice, too late, after the door closes behind you, that something is very wrong.