Pawpaw. It’s such a fun tree, native to where I live (East Tennessee, 7a), puts out delicious fruit for a very brief moment, and has a fun history.

The ice compartment of our fridge. It’s always a fucking compressed block that needs manually smashing up. I fucking hate it so much.

Woman here: I’m not annoyed if a person I don’t know talks to me, as long as a) they don’t interrupt something I’m doing to have conversation and b) they read my body language and fuck off again the moment it’s clear I’m not interested. But asking me questions when I have my headphones in to talk about inane shit while I roll my eyes? Nah.