i only cried a few times

the mundane and the sublime of watching the tour de france on tv

by Cleo de Lasa

When you’re unemployed, the Tour de France is a godsend. Crucially, it takes up the morning.

I graduated from college this May and moved home shortly afterward, looking for purpose wherever it may come. The long days of June were spent waking up far too late—after all, when you’ve got nothing going on, 11 am doesn’t seem like a heinous ti…