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Tuesday, August 24, 2010

it's okay if you are sans small

I have friends that don't have smalls.  I respect that.  Really, I do.

In fact, sometimes I even envy it, say around that time when your child has climbed in and out of the booth at the restaurant 30 times, and you've told them not to climb in and out of the booth 40 times, which has now only resulted in spilled lemonade on your lap.  Or, when you are on the phone discussing your latest complicated billing fiasco with "Mike," who is clearly in India, and whose real name you probably couldn't pronounce so when they told him to pick a name, Mike seemed pretty good and all-American and although your billing problem really isn't that complicated, the oceans and languages that separate you and "Mike" definitely make it seem complicated and your small is freaking out because they just can't grasp the fact that you are on the phone talking to another human being and not giving them your undivided attention.

Yeah, it's kinda in those times that I'm envying the sans small thing.

But, I do have smalls.  2 of them, in fact.  And while I'm trying really hard to keep up with the days current events, read a good book or two, and actually get my ass out of the house to see a movie so that I could engage in some sort of scintillating conversation with other grown ups, you have got to cut me some slack. I'm trying to get as irritated as you are about the political state of affairs in this country; I'm trying to keep up with your latest mini-drama with your friend who did that awful thing to you so you don't want anything to do with them anymore although I've gotten the latest installments regarding the saga for the past 3 months, and I'm trying really hard to keep up with the newest and latest restaurants in town.  I don't want to be a loser.  I don't want to be a bore.  I'm just a little tired and, frankly, saturated with Monster dreams, explaining why homeless people have no home, and wondering if my kid will be psychologically damaged if I admit that the tooth fairy is bullshit.

It would be great if I was allowed to share a little of this with you without having to endure the glazed look that comes over your face.  I'm not trying to be one of those nauseating people who talks about their smalls incessantly, as if they have achieved nothing else in life or as if it is the most important thing to you too...  But this is my life, and I'm interested in getting your input because I like you and I respect you.

Couldn't we meet halfway?  I mean, you were a small once too.  Right?

1 comment:

  1. Welcome to the blogosphere! You'll only become a teensy bit crazier than you already are, so. . .