I have a best friend. She’s great. She listens to me and puts up with all my annoying idiosyncrasies. We run together, we laugh together and we cry together. We even survived the, Tupperware Incident of 2016, about which I’m not allowed to talk, on the grounds of it being colossally silly.
I also have a husband. He's the nicest sort of guy. He puts up with me but I think there may be this bit of him (perhaps it is the male side of him, but I don’t want to stereotype) that just doesn’t care about all the little things that happen in my life that I feel I simply must talk about.
He doesn’t want to hear me perseverate over my day and the conversation I had with so-and-so and why I don’t think we should get that same type of cheese again because it’s not as good as the other type of cheese.
But I do have a best friend who is as crazy as I am, cares about similar silly stuff and is willing to listen to anything that’s important to me. Because when the excrement is hitting the fan folks, “Who you gonna call?” Your Ghostbuster friend.
The Big Boy Update: I didn’t get a good explanation on this one, but my son said to me yesterday, “Mom, call 991”. Me, “Why?” My son, “Because there’s a fire in your brain, because you’ve been thinking so much.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter is already getting ready for next Christmas. She asked me if I could put a mermaid set on her wish list for this coming Christmas.
I Forgot I Ran: Haha, it’s been so long since I ran I forgot to even mention it here. I ran four miles the other day.
No comments:
Post a Comment