“And that, kids, is how your mama helped defend the world against the most evil of monsters, and did her part to save humanity from crumbling into a hateful pit of divisive despair.”
— Bedtime story I will tell my future children. Because the best stories are real stories.
Kid: “Who are you voting for?”
Me: “I’m not sure I can say. But I can tell you that I am voting for the candidate who, in my opinion, is the most qualified person, is a decent human being, and will promote kindness and unity in this country rather than hatefully dividing us.”
Kid: “So…Hillary Clinton.”
<silence>
Kid: “I’m not an idiot.”
Kid: “My dad doesn’t even want to vote. He thinks his vote doesn’t matter.”
Me: “Really? I think every vote matters!”
Kid: “If he votes he’s going to vote for Jill Stein.”
Oh, so he’s CHOOSING to not matter.
Got it.
I can’t wait to vote so that I can take and post a photo of myself showing everyone that I voted.
At the end of the tutoring session, the mom, who has been watching from her home office, approaches me…
Mom: “So it’s been KILLING me since I met you, but I finally figured out who you remind me of, and it’s SPOT ON.”
Me: “Oh! Celebrity doppelgänger! This is fun. Let me guess– Sarah Jessica Parker?”
Mom: “No…”
Me: “Chloe Sevigny?”
Mom: “No…”
Me: “Hmmm…Those are the two I get the most. I give up, who is it?”
Mom: “This girl Margaret I used to work with.”
Oh. Well that means absolutely nothing to me at all.
Walking down a cold, windy, paper-cup lined 1st avenue right now, spotting some straggling marathon runners and feeling SUPER nostalgic.
For 10 minutes ago when I was warm on my couch.
Thank Christ my marathon days are over.
(Good job though, runners! 🏆)
(Continuation of I’m sorry– who are you? )
Cleaning lady: “On your wedding day you are going to look like a princess. I can see it now. Just like a princess in the Disney movies, with the big hair and the big dress and the long, long veil. Everything big and sparkling like a princess.”
Literally the worst thing you could say to me.
Cleaning lady (seeing my wedding dress hanging over the door, just as Eric leaves to go to the gym): “Are you two newlyweds?”
Me: “No, not yet! Engaged. We’re getting married in June.”
Cleaning lady: “Congratulations! It’s good that you live together first.”
Me: “Yeah we’ve been living together since April.”
Cleaning lady: “Of LAST year?”
Me: “April 2016. So for about 7 months.”
Cleaning lady: “And you’re sure that you want to marry him?”
Me (laughing): “Yes!”
Cleaning lady: “You must be very sure.”
Me: “I am sure!”
Cleaning lady: “April is not that long.”
What is happening right now.
The problem with my wedding dress hanging on a door in our compact apartment for the next few months is that given Eric’s newfound meat-dehydrating hobby, there is a 99% chance the dress, and therefore I, will smell like beef jerky on our wedding day.
“I would only love you more.” — Eric
I can yell “I PUT THE FUCKING BEANS IN, WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME YOU STUPID PIECE OF CRAP?!” at the coffeemaker all day long, but if I didn’t put water in, and it takes me 30 minutes to figure out that that’s what is causing the “malfunction,” well then I suppose it is not the machine’s fault.
And this is why I need a coffee I.V. next to the bed.
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