flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
Because part of going to synagogue with my mom after a long day at work is trusting her when she says she won’t hang around afterward for very long, then gradually sinking into exhaustion as she chats endlessly with EVERYbody (an activity I find terribly tiring even when I’m not already dead on my feet), and then trying not to tired-cry in front of that same everybody, and fielding endless questions about what I’m up to and what my job entails, and remembering that, when I do finally drag her out of the door, I still have to get myself home awake, 1/2 an hour or so from her house.
What I’m saying is, we are definitely not carpooling to shul tomorrow night.
Also, Saturday is my birthday, and also Yom Kippur, the day we fast and atone for our sins (or theoretically fast, because I get hypoglecemic and that ends well for nobody, so I just eat lightly and plainly). You’d think the whole gloomy holiday thing would be the worst bit, but no. The worst bit is the danger that my mother will acquire some sort of cake and have the whole shul sing at me after sundown, and please no. Please?