Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Home for the Holidays
My iPod earphones are covered in sticky finger residue, I'm crashing at 10 pm after a day of chasing small children, and I'm waking up at 7 am because small children don't sleep late. And I love it. I love it when they ask for Aunt Chloe to snuggle with them before they go to sleep at night. I love it when they ask if they can go back to New York with me. And I love it when they put their little hands in mine, completely trusting that I won't hurt them in any way. I need to come home more than once a year.
The transit workers went on strike in New York. My heart breaks for the trouble that this must be causing all my fellow New Yorkers. And for the economic damage that this does to our city everyday. Surely there must be a better way to resolve these problems.
I can't stop thinking about Marc. We don't communicate any more. No emails. No text messages. I miss him. I hate it that anything had to happen to ruin our friendship. I should have just had sex with him. The aftermath probably wouldn't have been much different than what I'm experiencing now.
The transit workers went on strike in New York. My heart breaks for the trouble that this must be causing all my fellow New Yorkers. And for the economic damage that this does to our city everyday. Surely there must be a better way to resolve these problems.
I can't stop thinking about Marc. We don't communicate any more. No emails. No text messages. I miss him. I hate it that anything had to happen to ruin our friendship. I should have just had sex with him. The aftermath probably wouldn't have been much different than what I'm experiencing now.
Labels: Marc
