I had one of the best weekends of my life on fanciful Shelter Island celebrating my BC roomie's wedding on Saturday to my big cousin, who grew up around the corner from me, and who I idolized because he was too cool for school - not even in a bad way, literally in a good way, he was like (and is still) super cool, but now I'm back in Manhattan, and I have gone from singing all the single ladies on the dance floor with the 4 remaining bachelorettes (out of 12 who I lived with in college) to single handedly killing all the (2) centipedes I have found just waiting to give me nightmares by creeping up on me in first my kitchen and now my bedroom.
HONEST TO GOD - I JUST HAD TO own up to being me, myself and I here against the world (since my roommate is a doll, but he would probably be more scared of these things than I was and less viciously willing to impale them with stiletto heels and or paper towel rolls).
And the moral is a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I am just sitting here in a bit of shock and bewilderment wondering when I'm gonna find that bed, chair and bowl of porridge I know is waiting for me.
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