You know what I mean when I say precious. Right?
It’s when you write something on social media about your perfect Sunday afternoon with your highly attentive husband and your GMO-activist toddlers and tag it with something like #weekend or #bliss or #joyofparenting or (please don’t) #yummy
It’s when you extoll the many virtues of your home grown Swiss chard or say the phrase “farm to table” more than once or twice in a single decade.
It’s when you post a photo on Instagram of the creamy heart that your Argentinian barista designed in your no-fat organic soy latte along with some reference to the restored Amazonian teak inlays in your independent coffee shop’s granite countertops.
It’s when you speak in hushed, reverent tones about time spent with your private yoga guru or the unique tonality of your meditation chime and how it has completely changed your life.
Precious. Right? Annoyingly, disgustingly, offensively precious.
Four rules about being precious about your stuff:
- Don’t do it.
- No one likes it.
- Yes, this applies to food, food preparation, beverages, Sunday brunch, your overly publicized workout routines, sunsets, your child’s achievement of milestones, and the fetishization of the weekend in general.
- Punch me when I do it.
