Careful - We Become What We Sneer At

I walked in my condo the other day and found my mom had left me a note.

Met your neighbor Sherry—last unit in your building. She’s 45, very friendly and said for you to stop by anytime and introduce yourself or she’s around if you ever need anything.

 Swear to God, my knee-jerk thought was, “Who is this sad, older woman my mom is trying to have me be friends with?” Then it hit me.

Forty-five.

This sad older woman is one  year older than me.

I had to laugh. Perspective is a scary thing.  

Cheers,

Dena

Can I Borrow A Cup Of Paper Clips?

Blair and I separated in February, each of us moving into our respective apartments. (He has the newer, nicer unit but I have a patio and snagged the Saber grill.) Since moving, I find myself having flashbacks to my first apartment after college when I constantly found myself running up against those small everyday items you expect to find around the house that just aren't there. 

It has come to my attention that toilet paper, paper towels, light bulbs, batteries, rubber bands, post-it-notes, and hand soap don't just magically appear. I realized just two days ago that I don't own a fly swatter when a wasp got in the house and I was reduced to flinging trail running shoes at it as I ran screaming from the room every time I missed. 

Dear Blair: Thank you for filling our home with replacement paper products for the past twenty years. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. Also, if you have a free moment, there is a wasp trapped in my bedroom that could use your attention. I'm tired of sleeping on the couch. 

Cheers,

Dena