Home Alone With Ice Cream
It’s Friday night and I am home alone, angry at the sink. This is ridiculous, of course, but I feel as if I have been doing dishes all the livelong day and couldn’t the sink please split itself into equal halves so that I can wash this very large pan in the section with the disposal. It stubbornly refuses and I mumble curses at it. I’m not really angry at the sink. I’m feeling sorry for myself. All I need now is a pint of ice cream to eat directly from the container. I text a girlfriend who has invited me out, “I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself, it’s the dating thing again”. “OMG, me too!!”, she texts back. I like that about this friend. She is like me. We are surrounded by...
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