Nothing I Can Do About it Now

June 15, 2007


Filed under: Uncategorized — dregina @ 10:41 am

Where was I?

Well, for a little while I was in North Andover, Massachusetts, a lovely town whose reputation is besmirched only by whatever responsibility it has to bear for how Cristian turned out. Which – come on now, people, Cristian would have had to grown up with the Munchkins in Lollipopland  to counteract the powerful, genetic components of his wicked, wicked personality.

(I’m entitled to say this because I discovered Cristian doing SuDoKu in HIS apartment last night with my favorite, precious, favorite pen, which I spent $15.00 on. $15.00! On a pen! A shameful act of bourgeois  justified only by then treasuring said pen and never losing it, a pen which I have pointed out to him at least 500 times as my favorite, precious, favorite pen, a pen that should never, ever leave my apartment no matter how much he needed a pen, even if he was writing a will leaving everything, including his extensive bottlecap collection, to me, God forbid of course such a thing should ever happen, BUT if he felt the need he could either write the damn will at my house or use a Bic. But! His SuDoKu addiction got the best of him and he smuggled said pen out of my house, and while I am not holding this against the town of North Andover per se I do wonder if the Munchkins couldn’t have done a better job with him.)

We were in North Andover because Cristian’s lovely sister Kayla graduated from High School.  Kayla is a doll, the kind of teenager that makes one want to have children, lots of them, because they’re so smart and funny and helpful and keep up with the newest music. And then I look out my car window and see a teenager skulking behind a bush smoking a cigarette, wearing one of those Happy Bunny t-shirts and remember, oh yeah, that’ll be the kind of teenager I’ll get. Hmmmm.

So I was going to write about that, and about how Cristian and I got stuck in Chicago for nine hours and then bumped to first class, where he asked me 50 billion times, “Are the drinks REALLY free? Really? They’re not going to give us some bill at the end of the flight, are they?” and also, as the Sad Sacks headed for coach filed by, “I wish I had a sign that said, I’m not rich, they just bumped me into first class,” which, honestly, would anyone ever feel better upon seeing such a sign when they’re headed for coach? People who had also been stuck in Chicago for many horrible, no-seats-left-in-the-airport hours? 

But then my college announced it was closing and my will to live was sapped for the 8 billionth time in 29 years. Which averages out to 1,323,125 times a day, if my math is right.

The will to live, it is strong in me, I suppose.


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