Some form of this post may eventually be included in Living with People I Want to Punch in the Throat. It is unedited and in rough draft form.
A few years ago, an interviewer asked me, “Do funny things happen to you, or do you make things funny?”
That question took me a second to answer. I had to think a bit and finally I said, “I make things funny.”
However, I’m rethinking that statement. I think funny things are just happening to me.
Actually, funny isn’t the right word. Weird things that are kind of funny keep happening to me.
Let me explain: one night I made an effort to put on a bra and leave my house. I was turning into a bit of a recluse and I didn’t like it. I knew I had to get out there and meet some new people and try some new things or else I’d need to start looking for a bridge to live under.
That’s why I said yes to my friend Ophelia when she invited me to a get-together for middle-aged women at a nearby restaurant.
It seemed like an no-brainer:
I’m a middle-aged woman.
I’m looking for friendly conversation.
The restaurant is too close for me to complain about traffic.
I like Ophelia.
I love appetizers.
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