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Even My Dreams Are Awkward

Scene 1:
I am sitting at the kitchen table of a new friend. She's actually quite wealthy, and as I look around, I am sure this is not her actual kitchen. I don't believe that this is how she keeps house. There are bags of vegetables on the counter, falling open into the sink. There are giant ants coming out of one of the cupboards. This doesn't seem to phase her as she makes us tea. I wonder if I should point out the ant invasion, or suggest that she put her vegetables in the fridge.

I do neither.











Scene 2:
There is a concert in my house. I'm not sure why, but does it really matter? I have an awkward encounter with a boy. At a pause in the conversation, I try steering to a safe topic: his beard. He comments that there are particular places that itch more than others. I respond that he seems to be going gray. There are a noticeable number of white hairs around his ears. As I point this out, I wonder two things: a. Why do we say "going gray" when he is, in fact, going white? and b. Why would I think its tactful to point out signs of aging in an already uncomfortable dialogue?



Scene 3:
I don't actually remember the scene at all. But this song is playing in my head when I wake up.  I have no idea the last time I heard it in my waking life.

Comments

Karen said…
May I simply say, in a rather shallow way, that I love the tiles on that backsplash?
Beth said…
they are great! it's from my first place in vancouver...such a lovely kitchen.

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