Oh my. I just returned from a visit to my sister's, who has:
So different from my own urban life! A condo awash in city lights but empty of life except for my own and the occasional unsuspecting male that I can lure onto the Red Couch O' Love. Plenty of time on my hands to fill with nothing but me me me. Lots of uninterrupted sleep, cocktails, and nights on the town. And a TV that gets three channels.
Hmm. One is more "exciting," but one has lots more love in it.
Not that I feel jealous. I don't, really. Maybe I'm misguided but I still have hope I'll figure out my way in the world of love and family to end up with the configuration that suits me best.
The surprising thing was, I really liked those babies and I am not a baby person. Throw me in a room with toddlers and I'm happy as a clam. But babies are too small and mushy and bendy and I don't know what to do with them. They also don't know my name and don't clap when they see me like GalPal #2s darling daughter.
But I didn't break either of them and I didn't even mind getting up in the middle of the night to help feed them! Maybe that was because of the Tivo we watched at 2 a.m. or maybe it was because it was nice to take care of someone other than myself for once in my life.
In any case, it put a bunch of new love in my heart, which, I have to say, was getting just a little bit cold from lack of use.
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