flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
I actually did this at Pesach when a certain relative of mine would NOT stop talking at me, but it’s frequently the case. One of several reasons I had trouble living in NY, where finances required that I rent a room in someone else’s apartment and live with incredibly limited privacy – not to mention the teeming sea of humanity that is New York, especially when you work near Penn station and the giant Macy’s at Christmas time. Or when you get on the L train with 7,000,000,000 unwashed hipsters and their beards.
When I meet the man who understands that sometimes I really would rather be alone with a book, then I will marry him with a cookie bouquet and together we will build a blanket fort to hide in when the world is too much. And then he will go somewhere else and let me have the fort to myself, and I will do the same for him when he needs it, and the relative I shall call ‘Wendy’ shall never come to our house. But our friends will, to watch Doctor Who and eat cinnamon popcorn and colour with crayons, and then, they, too, will leave. And that will be nice.