Don't cry for me, Argentina.
When introduced into most new environments in which I meet a group of new people, there are the inevitable INTERROGATIONS. I wish I could just issue a group memo or have some sort of press confrence-like deal in which everyone could raise hands and I'd answer all the nosey questions. After all these MONTHS, I STILL AM ANSWERING QUESTIONS. It's gotten to the point I want to start making shit up, like I've been on a mission trip to Borneo since I was 25 and then start jibbering and tell everyone it's a native language. It's just that the questions are ALWAYS THE SAME. IDK, ask me something surprising? Maybe I should make a NOTE TO SELF at this moment and STOP DOING THIS TO OTHERS. Okay. Yes. Mental note has been made.
Here's my favorite part of the interrogation process. Since I've chosen to be an old spinster cat lady, I don't get annoyed anymore when I get the "oh, what a pitiful weirdo" face when other women find out I don't have children and have never been married. I'd now classify the feeling I get as amusement laced with bemusement. I'M MUSE'D IN EVERY WAY. Then I proceed to feel BAD for THEM, because the ladies' small talk leads me to believe that none of them have gotten a peaceful nights sleep from between 1 to 47 years, depending on the age of her child.
Here's my favorite part of the interrogation process. Since I've chosen to be an old spinster cat lady, I don't get annoyed anymore when I get the "oh, what a pitiful weirdo" face when other women find out I don't have children and have never been married. I'd now classify the feeling I get as amusement laced with bemusement. I'M MUSE'D IN EVERY WAY. Then I proceed to feel BAD for THEM, because the ladies' small talk leads me to believe that none of them have gotten a peaceful nights sleep from between 1 to 47 years, depending on the age of her child.