On the flip side, it also means I don't have anyone to work/cook/make myself look decent for. Which is awesome, but also a throwback to College Cat, who lived for months on tortilla chips. J-Dawgs, and whatever food Ashley would make. It was a glamorous life.
|If you think this is gross, TOO BAD. It was delicious. And full of tasty subtext.|
And all of a sudden, I was transported. Zapped back to a simpler time, when I read Harriet the Spy ad nauseum, made endless tomato sandwiches despite my aversion to mayonnaise, and carried around a little red notebook festooned with exclamations of "Private!" and "Keep Out, Under Penalty of Death!"
Do you remember Harriet? It was amazing. That book was hands down my favorite as a child. I spent most of my six-year-old life jumping over fences and lurking around my neighbor's backyards. I meticulously wrote down everything I saw. Unlike Harriet, I did not live in an exotic city. I did not have eccentric hermits or family groceries in my neighborhood. Instead, the notebook was filled with tidbits like "Mr. Gove moved his tramp to mow the lawn. Why? You can mow around it. Also, he looks old," or "Oops, Mrs. Kirkpatrick caught me. But she gave me cookies!," or "The Murray's dog is really friendly, so I wonder why they keep such a big fence around it. Every time I sneak in, he just wants to be pet." Such ground-breaking observations.
Yes I could talk about all those things. But as I could not do them justice at the present, I'll just say that Harriet the Spy is a wonderful book, one that I think you should definitely read if you haven't. Yes, it's a kid's book. But it's smarter, and tougher, and more honest than half the books out there. And it's vastly more enjoyable. Just saying.
So that book, plus tomato sandwich, equals bliss. Trust me. You won't be sorry if you do.