Joseph R. Biden Jr. is now president.
In lieu of massive crowds, a public art exhibition was erected on the National Mall to represent the American people who are unable to travel to the capital for the inauguration.— USA TODAY (@USATODAY) January 19, 2021
Here is the "Field of Flags."https://t.co/ORNmx227Cp
📷: USA TODAY, Pool photo pic.twitter.com/QVMNlCXW3r
As he fell asleep, he whispered (I swear — I took time-stamped notes), “Everything is better without MyPillow.”
“That’s my kicker,” I said.
“That’s what it feels like to sleep with a MyPillow,” he said, “like someone’s kicking you.”
This started as one thing and I'm not sure how it became this other thing.
Tom entered the shed and turned on the overhead light. He edged over to let Sarah in. He motioned for her to close the door behind her. Sarah motioned that this was ridiculous. It drifted on its hinges and partially closed on its own. He shuffled over to the wall to the right of the door, the nail holding the rake snagging his t-shirt for an inch before releasing it. There wasn’t much room. It seemed a mistake to be in here wearing flip-flops. She kept her ankles as close together as possible without falling over while she found a level spot. Sarah looked around, which didn’t take long: The gas lawn mower; the partially filled hole described in his hilarious groundhog invasion story at the cookout last Saturday night; six useless flowerpots, cracked and spilling dirt; and the time machine.
“That’s the time machine?” Sarah asked, since he hadn’t offered.