Dreaming in Suburbia

I made friends a couple of months ago with a woman whom I met at the library. This friend is really a very happy individual, although somewhat slow to warm up to you. But once she does warm up to you, she’s really very nice. Reminds me of a loyal dog - and I don’t mean that as a detriment to her. She even has the brown dog-eyes. Very recently she trusted me enough to tell me that she’s had a hysterectomy at age 32, due to overwhelming pain and a severe medical condition.

So we met at the library yesterday. Its been our “thing”. To meet at the library and have lunch and talk about stuff once a month. She enjoys seeing E too, and I wouldn’t hold that from her. There are several groups that meet at our local library - especially when its too cold (or too hot - like yesterday) to meet anywhere else. One group is a pregnancy support group. Now, I know its not polite to eavesdrop on conversations, and in our defense we didn’t, but the place was crammed and we could hardly keep from hearing what was said.

One of the pregnant women was telling a couple of other women that her husband had not wanted kids when they got married. The upshot of the conversation was that she (this woman) had told her husband that the pregnancy was an accident. In short, she had lied about it.

A few years earlier on I would have said - this woman is wrong and my opinion is right etc. But as I’ve gotten older I find right and wrong is really not black and white. Its really a shade of grey thats hard to see. So no, I won’t go as far as saying that this woman is wrong - but its…its disturbing. That’s what it is. Disturbing.  And what bothered me more was this thought that I somehow must defend these women, against my friend and against my will - because I have the ability to have - or deceive - my husband into having a child - and my friend can’t. I know she felt something too, because there was a stricken look on her face. I thought she was going to leave, but instead she asked that we sit elsewhere, away from the group of pregnant women.

Things like these always make me marvel at the unfairness of life. There are perfectly good women, with normal humdrum lives and stolidly boring marriages wanting kids, who can’t have them, and other rabbit brained ones who think they’ve scored over their husbands by having them on the sly. Why does life have to be so unfair ? In my logical, there-must-be-a-reason-for-everything world, I try in vain to see the reason behind this random infliction of pain on some people, while others beg, borrow or steal their way to perceived happiness. What is all this in aid of ?

And really, why do some questions in life never have answers ?

I was reading about romantic proposals. Let me see, yes, here. I remember the engagement story tag that did the rounds a couple of years (?) ago. I decided to take up the Mad Momma on her offer to write up any romantic engagement stories. Only my proposal was not really romantic.  So anyone expecting to read on about it - let me spare you that disappointment. But then, romanticisim is in the eye of the beholder - and I’m not a romantic.

Anyway, when I was about to turn 25, my parents suddenly realized that their “baby” was fast approaching her “sell by” date. Soon, too soon, I’d be 27.5 yrs old, and then *gasp* well over the marriage-able age. From there to thirty was only a blink and then I’d be left to pick other women’s leavings.

In case you haven’t figured out, I’m being sarcastic. I can afford to be sarcastic now - when I am mature enough and strong enough to hold my own opinions. You probably won’t believe it, but at 25, I was still a naive, stupid little girl - the baby of her parents.

My (now) husband was then a colleague. The first time he asked me to marry him, I’d known him for two weeks. (He now claims he was of sane mind at the time. He’d just decided he was going to marry me the moment he saw me. Nonsense, of course). He was several countries and time zones away. I refused. Not because he was several countries and time zones away, but because I just didn’t think he was serious. No one proposes to someone over the phone after knowing them for two weeks. And definitely - no one accepts.

Several months later (eight, maybe ten ? months later) I quit my job and began pursuing my Master’s in the US. My (now) husband was already working here. A chance encounter online a few months after I had arrived meant renewed friendships. I was very depressed about being away from home, and I missed my parents dreadfully. I was also very confused and hurt about a whole lot of other things going on in my life at the time. But he (the husband) was there. Steadfast. Loyal. Helpful. And very strictly, only a friend. Then, two-ish years later, he asked me to marry him for the second time. But I wasn’t ready yet. So I refused. Again.

The third time (yes, there was a third time - the husband is a very determined man), was after the friendship had moved on to being Something More, but Not Quite Sure What. So I told him I’d have to talk to my parents. He was actually hopeful, because I’d actually said something other than “No”.  Parents decided to talk to him. Probably to warn him about what he was contemplating doing - which was to marry a neurotic, paranoid, depressive basket case like me. Actually it was he who did all the talking. Made sure he quieted any doubts in their minds. I remember one particular incident very clearly. I was really terribly upset about the whole wedding thing and the parental pressure etc, so I told my husband in a very emotionally needy voice, “You won’t forget me if I refuse you, will you?”. To which he replied, “I think that’s impossible. You can’t forget someone who has turned you down three times”.  That incident folks, pretty much sums him up. He is nothing if not practical.

I accepted his proposal sometime later. We never had an engagement. His take on it - “Ho, engagement ? I don’t think so. Give you another chance to change your mind ? Forget it. We’re jumping straight to the marriage. And don’t you try to wiggle out of this one”.

And so that was that.

… going on in my head - but none will make a post by themselves. So I’m going to give you the dubious benefit of writing all of them here:

1. We have a bird bath in the backyard. I fill it every morning with water and I can watch the birds gathering there from the kitchen window. Its a beautiful sight, the white bird bath, with all the colorful birds gathering there. Especially on hot days, I can usually find in addition to the usual sparrows and run-of-the-mill birds, some with brilliant plumage - one with exceptional red plummage.

It always reminds me of back home. Right opposite my parent’s house used to be a big (I mean gigantic) banyan tree. One day, the people who owned the plot of land on which the tree grew, decided it was too big and was dangerous to have in the yard, so they chopped it down. In one day. Nothing remains there today. Not even an undignfied looking stump. I remember (I was perhaps, ten years old then), seeing a pair of birds sitting on the electric pole opposite and looking at their broken home. They stayed there for a couple of days, just like that, the two of them - refusing to leave, hoping that if they stayed long enough their house would be returned to them. Then one of them flew away. She (I think of her as the “girl” of the pair) kept calling him from afar, but he wouldn’t budge from his perch. Finally, she flew off. For good. A few days later, he flew off too. I wonder if they ever met again 

Somewhere, I think, is this unacknowledged hope that they will meet on that birdbath in my backyard. Silly, I know. But you see, I know what its like to lose your home. To metaphorically lose everything you value. For what are we afterall ? Birds, forever in search of that ever elusive bird bath in the Eternal Back Yard.

2. Why are wild flowers always the prettiest flowers ? Nature’s funny that way. Some scheme to show us how even when the plant on which they grow are often found in dirt, filth, sides of walls, and other impossibly difficult places to survive and are possibly the most weed-killer-sprayed specimens in the horticultural world, they can still produce the most beautiful flowers in Nature. Even more beautiful than a cross-cultivated, green house grown, environment controlled sweet smelling rose.

Think of a sunny hillside full of bunches of colorful flowers - there is an unpretentiousness about those flowers. Like they are saying - anything is possible, look at me. Or perhaps they mean to tell us that if we suffer in life, there is an equal compensation waiting for us somewhere else. The sum constant of the area under the curve in all our lives is constant so to speak.

3. I used to keep lists of things to do. I’m that sort of person. I always have a Plan B. Then I usually have a Plan C. In case Plan B fails. I have to plan things down to the last possible detail. I need to feel in control. I’m what you would label a control freak.

I now find I’m not taking too well to the heat. I tire out easily. I can hardly keep my eyes open - I’m that tired. So everything on that list I make - goes without. At the end of the day, I’m still seeing a messy house, dog hair everywhere, no dinner, no chores done - nothing. I stressed about it beyond belief - tried changing my routine so I’d hopefully have more time to work. Nothing doing.

So I simplified things by not keeping a list anymore. This is uncharted territory for me. I’ll probably crack and start going crazy with the chores in a couple of weeks. Until then… well, we’ll see.

4. I had an epiphany over the last couple of days. I read about some researcher asking people if they were happy people. “Are you a happy person ?”. I’ve just realized I’m not. I’m not a happy person. Not that I’m a sad person. I’m definitely not sad. But I’m not happy. I have small happinesses in life, sure, but overall as a person, I’m probably neutral - if there is such a thing. I go through the motions and expect things will go up and down, but I no longer worry about the downs and am no longer ecstatic about the ups, I just go through them.

I think that’s sad. I used to be a different person. Vivacious. Open. Friendly. Colorful. Now I’m just lost in all the business of living life.

5. Before I forget, I must write about: (1) My grandparents (2) My engagement story (or as much as I’m comfortable telling) … did I just make a list ? Dang it.

A somewhat delayed version of what I did for July 4th. Actually I did what I do every year.

One day is designated Beach Day. So we went on the 3rd this year. E screamed and screamed and screamed (and screamed) at the sight of water. This was right after the incident at the spray park. So understandably, she was frightened of the water. But not withstanding her pleas of “no water” along with copious amounts of tears, the husband picked her up and stood at the edge of the waves. After a while she was more bothered with the sand getting into her shoes - I hope she doesn’t turn into a clean freak, cause umm, I’m not one - and finally, we determinedly ate lunch while burning to a crisp in the 90 degree heat.

It was the first time I was sun burned, and I wasn’t even burned by the sun - I was burned by the sand. Apparently the sand was hot enough to scorch the skin - despite slathering gigantic amounts of sunscreen at regular intervals. This probably means that I have adapted to the weather patterns and am well underway in the process of becoming a native from a non-native.

July 4th is also when I stock up on shell fish and berries. Separately of course. Shell fish is usually at its freshest and least expensive during this weekend. So I bought a bunch of crabs and shrimp this time around. Those of you with squeamish stomachs and such like or vegetarians etc please skip to the next paragraph, ’cause the next few sentences will want to make you hurl. Well, you have been forewarned. Anyway, the only way to ensure that shellfish is fresh is to buy it live. So essentially you buy live crabs and then put them to sleep (what a euphemism!) and then clean them up. One of the crabs escaped and scuttled across the floor scaring E into peeing in her pants. I’m really giving that dear child all the phobias I can muster up ! *sigh*

So cleaning crabs is a HUGE thing. To begin with they smell. No, stink. No stink the place up. Then they itch. I don’t know what it is - but they have this coating that makes hands itch terribly. And even in death they are defiant the buggers. The poke and prod you with all the poky shells they possess. And it takes hours to clean them. It took me four hours to clean the 12 crabs I bought.

Berries also are the freshest this time of year. Last year I went the whole hog and got raspberries and strawberries and blueberries.  This year I just settled for the blueberries. So at the moment I have two lbs of blueberries sitting in the freezer waiting to be eaten all year.

By then it was Sunday and time to clean up and get ready for the following week. But honest to God, I wish long weekends came more often. There’s something seductive about being used to just two days to complete all the chores in the week and then suddenly be given this whole other day  to basically do as you please.

*sigh* I love long weekends.

E started Summer Camp this week. Three days a week with Parent. God, its exhausting.

Which might explain the general petering out of posts. I will persevere, or so I tell myself. But if I fall flat on the keyboard out of sheer exhaustion - don’t hold that against me. OK ?

As any parent of a child age two months and up will tell you - there is an institution that was founded by sleep deprived, social-interaction-with-adults starved fellow parents called the Play Group. But since forming a support group for adults is soooo passe, they decided that this group is going to be for kids. And in order to make people join in - they used the bait that play groups help socialize your kid. So if you don’t join one, you are probably raising a kid that’s going to be antisocial - or at least have trouble “fitting in” and blame you for it in the therapy sessions he/she will undoubtedly need.

As any parent that actually belongs to a play group will tell you - its not about the kid at all. The kid will spend the entire hour (or two hours or whatever) of the play time happily playing with the toys provided. Sometimes they will play with the pets in the house. Occassionally they will decide that the youngest child in the room is a toy and play him. (Don’t ask me how I know). But really its more about “I’m going to have the best snacks in the group” and “How come she did this, and she said that” and rivalry and politics. Its also about great friendships and forming new bonds with these incredible women and knowing that you are not alone in the whole crazy experience called Parenthood.

I belong to two playgroups that meet in my area. They come under the general umbrella of an organization called the Moms Club. The Club organizes the play groups, groups kids by age and organizes age appropriate activities etc. As with organizing any large group of people, everyone knows the play groups and the days when they meet etc - but not everyone gets to join the play groups of their choice.

But anyway, the first group that I belong to includes R’s mom. I’m guessing from several incidents that have occurred over the past couple of months, that she’s not very popular. She has always behaved perfectly well with me. She and I are in our Friday Play Group - where we are the only two members left - the rest all ran away within a few weeks. One of the one’s running away actually wrote to me to tell me that R’s mom had a terribly messy home, and R always had a runny nose etc. I thanked her and then resolved to forget all about her “advice” to stay away from R and her mom.

I’m glad I did, because up until this past Friday, we were really getting along fine. Great even. R invited E over to swim - so we went over. Now I should really, really learn to keep my mouth shut. That’s always been a challenge for me. Hmm, so I start yakking about the other playgroup I’m in - and happen to mention that its on Tuesday.

Suddenly, R’s mom snaps to attention, “You got into the Tuesday Play Group?” she asked me.

Me: *tentatively testing the waters* Yeeess…

She: *red as a beetroot* I asked them three times  and they kept telling me they were too full to accept new members. How can they accept you, if they are full ?

Me: *realizing that this was not really reflecting well on me at all* To tell you the truth, I didn’t even ask to be included - they asked me to join. *immediately realizing that I had just made everything worse* And this is not really an age appropriate group. We have kids as old as eight in this group. *desperately clutching at straws* I’m sure we are talking about two totally different groups. The one I’m talking about isn’t all that great *Oh, no shut up shut up now, while there’s still time* I mean its good for E and all, but R might find it boring *there - you’ve done it now* No, I know, they must have accepted me because there are some members who are pregnant and they must expect them to leave *liar, there’s only one person pregnant in that group and she is NOT leaving. She told you so herself*  So I mean….

She: *slight gleam of hope in eye* So there’s still a chance we can get in ?

Me: *hedging* Umm, I don’t know really - you’ll have to talk to the co-ordinator about that ….

She: *major apoplectic fit* I HAVE to talk about this at the next meeting. We must have a system to take care of this. How CAN they ….. etc.

At this point, I decided it was time for us to leave. I managed some polite goodbyes and thank yous and high tailed it out of there. 

In retrospect, I guess I must accept that there are always going to be play groups and then there are going to be Play Groups. You know what’s funny ? Once upon a time I used to be like R’s mom - desperate to be with the “in” crowd. Now I just don’t care. I’m glad if I find people with similar thought patterns and who are well behaved and polite. In fact, I’ve found that the most interesting people are not alpha personality, not conventionally attractive, not even someone you’d normally think of conversing with. So I find it ironic that when I stopped trying so hard - was when I was accepted to effortlessly in the “popular” crowd. But I’m just glad I found a set of women who are as diverse and helpful as the Tuesday Play Group.

Maybe I should tell all this to R’s mom.

No, on second thought, I’ll be over there in the corner keeping my very, very big mouth tightly clamped shut.

Why is parenting so difficult ? No. I don’t mean parenting one’s own  children - I mean accepting other people’s  idea of parenting their children ! Or even not having children at all.

Look here for instance. Its an article about whether having children makes you happy or not.

The author cites various references that say that having children does NOT significantly make you more happy than those without children.

…”In fact, no group of parents—married, single, step or even empty nest—reported significantly greater emotional well-being than people who never had children. It’s such a counterintuitive finding because we have these cultural beliefs that children are the key to happiness and a healthy life, and they’re not“…

The reason for drawing this conclusion is the belief that people are not willing to admit that “the greatest gift life has to offer” (meaning their children) have hampered the enjoyment of life. This is just plain wrong. People do admit that raising children is hard work. That its getting them down. But then life without children isn’t a cake walk either. You still do have issues and problems to work through. They are just different  problems to work through. Life doesn’t get magically easy because you don’t have kids.

But the key question that the survey never asks is - why do people have children ? The article assumes its because they are “socially conditioned from birth” to believe that having children is the norm. That’s not true. Because that would imply that people who have kids don’t really give the decision any thought. It just follows the natural pattern of life. Now, I find the suggestion that children are begotten in order to increase the enjoyment of life - just plain offensive. I’m willing to give the author the benefit of doubt. Perhaps the author didn’t mean it that way - in which case its a very good example of very bad editing.

The point I’m trying to make is - I have kids because I chose to have kids. Its what I envision being a part of a full happy life. And thats exactly the point the article completely misses. That happiness and children don’t always have to be related. That each individual person has his or her own ideas about what they want from their life, and in some of those people - kids just don’t form part of the equation. Sure you can be happy and unhappy about having a child and parenting a child. But you can be happy and unhappy  about raising a pet, or tending a garden - or as an example of a non-living thing - creating a piece of art.

In other words, what the study should have looked at is how satisfied people are with their overall life - not just with making the decision to have kids. And then take into account that fact that each person’s perception of how happy they are is going to be very different. Two people could go through the exact same set of catastrophic life changes - say, they learn that they lost their jobs, their respective spouses are leaving them, they are bankrupt and their house burned down - and one person could go into depression about losing everything and the other one could be happy that they have been given a second chance at a fresh start.

I know that example is a little extreme ! But you can’t quantify happiness in people’s lives. You can’t say “OK, study participant number 1 has kids and a home, and a happy marriage, so their happiness level should be at X. And study participant number 2 is homeless and their spouse left them and they don’t have kids, so their happiness level should be at Z”. And then try to draw a conclusion based on that.

Each of us have our own reasons for making the decisions that we make (including the decision to have or not have children). Those reasons are not often black and white. There are going to be all kinds of people everywhere - good, bad and ugly. All we can do is respect their choices and accept them for who they are. And perhaps in the process - accept ourselves for who we are as well.

E is becoming more and more vocal now. She’s also becoming very very attached to M. I don’t think she realizes that M’s a dog and she’s a girl. She pulls his ears and kisses his nose and shares food with him. They take their afternoon nap together. She even makes him the fall guy for all the things she’s done wrong. Just a couple of days ago, we were at the store and she found a display of hair scrunchies. The kind that are a piece of elastic with black velvet fabric stitched around it. She was there a long time feeling the scrunchies. So I went over to her and asked what she was doing. She tells me, “Look Mommy, they have M’s ears” !

Up here in the North East, summer is usually the time when most adults start behaving like Adults Gone Wild. To begin with - its party season. No, not the sit down adult affair with cutlery and three course meals. The adult supervised kids’ birthday party kind. With cake and balloons and aforementioned kids going crazy on sugar and aforementioned adults trying in vain to not be bored. Yeah, that kind.

Then of course, there is the feeling that “Summer is going to be gone soon and I need to get everything done in these two months”. So every other day we have some social engagement. A few days ago for example - we were invited to the spray park in our neighborhood. When we got there, the place was packed. I mean PACKED. E didn’t want to get into the water. After some coaxing I managed to get her to play in the younger children’s area. She was standing there - just standing there - when out of nowhere - two kids (ages about 6 and 8 ) came running from the opposite direction and knocked her over. (She’s OK now. Thank God).

But I mean knocked her over.  One minute she was standing and the next she was flat on her back. But the horrible thing (for me) is that I was six inches away from her. I can still see the expression on her face - of bewilderment at what was happening - and then shock because I let this happen to her. Like I had failed her somehow. That expression has been playing in my mind over and over and over, eating into me. If only I was standing next to her I could have caught her. If only I could have reached out my hand. If only….

But you know what frightened me ? In that one instant that I knew she was hurt, there was an almost knee jerk reaction to hurt the child who made her fall. I’ve never felt that way before. It was a level of anger - and of the protective instinct - that I’ve never experienced. And it was scary. You know when you read in books that a mother will do anything  to save her young ? I now know what that means.

Needless to say, E is absolutely traumatized by the experience. She would not go anywhere near water after we got home. After much coaxing and bribing with sweets, she’s now OK with bathing and washing hands.

What I’m really upset about is that she’s going to be affected by something someone else did but she’s going to be the one who has to work through all the negativity associated with the experience. And that this is only the first of such experiences. The next time the she might be pushed not physically but figuratively - in her mind. 

And I don’t know what we are going to do about all the pool parties and swimming meets we’ve been invited to. Probably invest in a pair of ear plugs. And therapy for me.

*sigh* it has not been an easy week.

Whoever, said “having kids brings a couple closer” probably never had kids. Or at the very least had very good domestic help !

Over the past weekend, we had a chance to catch up with some old friends of ours. They have a very convoluted relationship with us - she was a year ahead of me during my undergraduate studies, he was a couple of years ahead of her. However, they didn’t really hit it off until they were both here in the US. Now, he also happened to share accomodations with the husband during graduate school. At that point in time, husband and I were strangers to each other. So we (husband and I) both know each of them without knowing that we knew them etc.

That means that we still have to work on the dynamics of the relationship as couple sometimes. In the past, especially after E was born, its so happened that the husband and I have had disagreements with each other. While this couple was present. The disagreements were nothing major - quite like any couple would have - but to these people it was a Big Deal. Because you should know, people who really  love each other don’t argue. *gasp* And never when company is present. Clearly at that point they had no idea what sleep deprivation can do to human beings. Namely, turn them into snappy short tempered monsters. And clearly, they also had no idea what bringing up a child can do. Namely, strain your patience to breaking point.

This weekend was the first time we met them after they had a baby. Their kid is oh - three-ish months old ? Kid cried pretty much throughout the dinner we were having. Forcing one or the other of them to hold her while other person gulped food down. They were already tired from the long drive over (they live some distance away) and had had a long day. Probably didn’t get much sleep since the baby was born. So after dinner we were having ice cream and making small talk with other people in the party when suddenly these two had a Big Argument over Very Small Issue at an Even Smaller Restaurant. Everyone stopped to look. Except my husband of course, he always misses things like this. He was, at the moment, speaking to the proprietor of the establishment about some exotic flavor of ice cream. Anyway, after the heated moment passed away, she gave me a Look.

A Look that had been exchanged since time immemorial by new mothers with other mothers with more experience than they. A Look that said - Does this get better or are things all down hill from here ? I wanted kids, but I didn’t sign up for this. This loss of myself as a person. Possibly losing my husband as a person too. Losing a part of our existence as a couple. This snapping at each other. This feeling that always I come second now  - that the kid always comes first. Do all new moms go through this emotional see-saw of feeling love and animosity toward their little one ? Most of all -  I’m sorry for being so judgemental in the past, I should have known better.

And I told her, just as surely but silently - You’re doing fine. Let some time pass and you’ll be fine. Give yourself a chance to find your “baby legs” (just like finding “sea legs” only harder). In time, you’ll  be the one giving this advice to some other new mom.  I accept your apology, but really - who amongst us has not been judgemental of people with kids when we ourselves were childless ? Oh and by the way - welcome to the Real World.

At 7 pm you are at home sitting in front of the AC vent and thinking about how nice it is to live in the twenty first century with indoor plumbing and air conditioning and antibiotics and stuff.  Then you realize that you have a family and century not withstanding it needs to be fed. Then you realize that there is nothing in the house that can be whipped up into an edible concoction. Even though your bad culinary skills ensure that the family does not expect too much by way of tasty food - still even they can’t eat boiled egss by themselves for dinner. So you haul your behind into the grocery store without bothering to change from your “home” clothes into your “going outside” clothes.

Its 7:30 p.m. and 82 deg F outside. You find yourself walking into the grocery store on a Friday evening to buy food. The cool interior of the grocery store is very inviting. The humidity outside is thick enough to cut with a knife. Your new hair (which you cut so that you don’t have to tie it) is easily twice its size and frizzy like its going out of fashion. Still you adamantaly refuse to tie it - looking like a prop from Star Wars instead. You are wearing your most comfortable, sack-like pair of shorts that have survived from the stone age and which have *gulp* food stains from hell that will not go away with repeated washings. Even with bleach. Promise. Feet have swollen to twice normal size with the heat. So all you can wear are those tacky looking strappy plastic flip-flops. You wear husband’s tee shirt because “its roomier”. Suffice to say you look like the Poor Domestic Help Imported From Impoverished Land rather than the Mistress of the Home and Hearth. Just then E decides she really  likes the display of canned olives in the aisle that the nice clerk just put up and is in the process of taking out the can right at the bottom when you manage to scream at her in time to leave the display alone - ensuring the attention of everyone in the near vicinity.

In such situations, I assure you from personal experience that you are guaranteed - guaranteed I tell you - to meet someone who will make you feel dowdy and unfashionable even when you are well dressed and presentable. And the problem with such persons is that they don’t realize that they make you feel this way, making it very hard to dislike them.

In this case said person walks up quite oblivious of my discomfort and attempt at avoiding eye contact. Looking like a million bucks. Every hair in place. Clothes ironed. My clothes looked like they had an attack of temporary amnesia with respect to irons and ironing boards. Fabulous shoes. Perfumed. Well made up. I was torn between cleaning myself up as much as possible and running away from there as fast as possible. I could do neither - owing to the fact that E planted a chocolate-y palm print on my shirt, while said person continued to exchange pleasantries.

I really like this person - she’s a good friend. But she makes me feel so inadequate. Someday, I keep telling myself, I’ll get to looking like that. At least in my dreams

But meanwhile - where’s my AC vent ?