After two weeks of living out of a laundry basket and eating bagels and donations and riding my bicicleta for miles and miles and miles (of ocean) (making my thrift store dresses fit me mucho betteroso) I'm about to settle down.
How crass and materialistic to have a house, he said.
How wonderful to build up my own little hermit shell, I rebounded.
Tomorrow is the Labor Free Day. Did you know, I started out this blog with a Labor Day? Because I'm rarely interested in life without manual labor I decided to celebrate by trying out a blog to see if I wasn't boring. I don't know if it made me less boring or more (don't tell me in the comment box, I'll cry), but I'm enjoying the typing typing typing.
Typing therapy, he said.
You don't exist, I said.
I think, he said.
What lessons do you learn in a year?
I learned to muddle slowly and listen to my gut.
I'm hearty (hearty appetite-ish).
I love my bicicleta (Il s'appelle "Wonder") and hate driving.
I love wind (that's "le vent" en français).
I learned to believe in astronauts.
I learned the Russian alphabet.
And boys are crazy, but aren't we all.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment