Out the window


I have a stupid sinus infection cold thing.  The kind where my heels are connected to the nerves in the sinus cavities in my cheekbones and my face gets a little electric shock with every step.  The kind where if I don’t keep the Sudafed coming, I’ll get an ear infection, so I spend all day feeling like I’ve had seven double espressos and I’m too hot and too cold all at the same time and both the too hot and too cold make me have gross clammy sweats.  My teeth hurt.
I couldn’t fall asleep last night, so I watched the last scene of the last episode of Six Feet Under on YouTube and then read a stupid fight in the comments about which is better, Dexter or SFU, and how there’s a difference between fact and opinion and it’s OKAY to have whatever opinion you want, because that is different than facts, but it’s NOT OKAY to try to make other people share your opinion like it’s some sort of fact, dude.  (Plus, he was wrong.  Six Feet Under kicks Dexter ass.) 

Then I had to stay awake longer in order to spend some time feeling guilty about wasting my time reading all those stupid comments.  And then a little longer to admonish myself for letting the whole thing take up MORE of my time by feeling bad about it.  Then I watched the last episode of Mad Men on Netflix, because the new ones are coming in March and I am embarrassed to admit what a huge amount of happiness the thought of that brings to me. 

Anyway.  The girls are both in the school play this year, and came home from their first dress rehearsal last night with full makeup on.  They looked incredible and I am partly dreading and partly waiting with fascination for the day when they are grown enough to put on their own eyeliner and lipstick.  I admit that I am jealous of them, of all my kids, for having the opportunity to do things differently than I did.  When I was watching that last part of Six Feet Under where Claire drives away from everyone to start a whole new life for herself, I got wistful as hell (again) about the time that I sort of almost went to New York or rural Pennsylvania for college but didn’t ever get past the fliers and applications.  Instead I got married way too young.  Would I change anything?  No.  I love my kids and I can travel when they’re grown.  But why was I too chicken to hang out in that space between childhood and adulthood?  I don’t want to leave anyone behind and drive off in my Prius (mostly), but wasn’t the best part about being young the fact that you could?  That and the skin that still had elasticity.  And the hot body.  And the self-centeredness.  heh.

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