The first two minutes of And Just Like That, the Sex and the City spin-off, is worse than the entire day of Sept. 11, 2001.

An unfinished manuscript can haunt you like a ghost. An unpublished book can devour your brain like a hungry zombie.

In 2021, the dangers are far less likely because dinosaurs only exist in movies and we are the über-predators on the planet. Our biggest danger is ourselves and our over-active imaginations.

...that, when being forced to work with a former assistant who demonstrated mendacity, casual ruthlessness and generally low character in the past, being someone capable of compartmentalizing emotions and reactions is like a fucking superpower.

We were in a full blown relationship for almost a year. After his basic training his personality shifted and he started showing his true colors: a narcissistic, insecure, chauvinist. I ignored it. I held on to the beginning of our relationship, when we were obsessed with each other, having sex non stop, taking exotic vacations, talking about marriage.

I had always wondered what the descent into hell is like. For the record, it was nothing like I had imagined. The drop was unknowing. It was innocent and comforting. I felt understood. The initial plunge into Satan’s lair was my first conversation with Frank.