While I was picking up dinner at Grandma's, an older woman I have never talked to before informed me that she noticed I wasn't wearing a wedding ring and that she could set me up with her son so I have someone to support me after the baby comes. I would like to say that she got the hint when I gave her a brilliantly withering look, but she instead sat next to me and told me more about Jerry than I ever wanted to know. I haven't decided if this was better or worse than when my coworker realized I was pregnant and responded with, "
You're pregnant? But
why?"
Anyway,
not talking about my apparently delicate condition, I bit the bullet and gave up my studio in DC. I've been here far more than I've been in DC as of late, so it's really just become an expensive closet at this point. It was helpful for work, but I've grown used to the commute. I think this means I've put down roots. Oh my.
And finally, I'm going to the Renaissance Faire this weekend. Various sorts that won't be there talking in British accents that I will almost certainly be judging harshly in my mind ought to accompany me. I want to buy a flower crown.