Connections

I used to have a neighbor who drank a bit. She often wandered the campus in sweatpants and mesh shirts with saggy tank tops underneath. Occasionally she'd forget the tank top.

This evening I had been cooking in my tiny kitchen with the window closed and no fan on (makes it hard to hear the TV show on the iPad) so by the time I needed to take the garbage out I was down to my flannel pants with martinis on them and the tank top I'd been wearing under a sweater earlier. It is not my finest garment. There is sagging and bagging. As I threw the bolt on the door to keep myself from being locked out I had the strongest feeling that I was turning into my former neighbor.

Right after that I had such an amazing pang of missing Misti. It's her birthday today, you see, and sitting around in our saggy PJs drinking a little too much and laughing at ourselves is something we're really good at. We should be doing that today. She's had her fancy celebrations with other friends and today should be all about goofiness and (mildly) bad decisions.

Sorry I'm not there with you, my friend. Accidentally flash someone for me, willya? I love you.