Monday, February 19, 2007

Out of the mouths of babes

My niece Shira has noticed her older sister talking to me on the phone every night. She decided to get in on the action and called me while I was on Skype with Matt Stein. (So far the sobriety seems to be sticking.)

I hung up with him to talk to her. "Aunt Ayelet? Who were you talking to?"

"My friend Jennifer." Shira doesn't have to know everything.

"Do you have a book to read after you talk to her?"

"Sure... I have books and other things that I need to read for school."

"What else do you do in your house?" she asked.

"Well, I... go on the internet and look at websites."

"That's not a good life!" she cried. "You should come and live with me in my house."

Flattering, but also tremendously sad. That is my life. I read (sometimes), I surf the web. I don't do much else. At some point I'll be studying more, and I'll also be working, if they finally get finished with my stupid physical. But... she's right, in a way.

"Where would I sleep?" I asked Shira.

"In Malka's room."

"Where would Malka sleep?"

"In the guest room."

"Where would the guests sleep?"

"In the basement?"

In the past, I would have been living with her in her house. The spinster aunt would have lived with a married sister as a kind of unpaid servant. She would have helped raise the children.

Not sure which option is worse -- my life, or the life of a Victorian spinster aunt.
Copyright (c) 2007 "Ayelet Survivor"

1 comment:

  1. Don't feel that sorry for yourself-- we can all get in on the pity party. Believe it or not, most other peoples' lives (even married folks'!) are not that much more scintillating. For example, I go to work, I go home. I go to work, I go home. In between (and when I don't have my kid) I surf the web, watch TV, exercise some, and generally not much else. I'm not composing the next Great Novel, or even playing my musical instrument that's gathering dust in my basement despite all my promises to myself to out it into service. Oh, yes, I occasionally will go out on a date. What fun, right?

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