So now that I’m not taking the metro to work anymore, I no longer have the fallback post I always resorted to: metro. Whether it was crazy people on metro, or a general diatribe against public transportation and all its evils, I always had something I could write about. Now I’m a driving commuter, and who wants to read a rant on DC traffic? Okay, maybe three people do, but I don’t want to write it.
I have been having a fascinating conversation with some friends revolving around the Big Question of Our Times: can men and women be “just” friends? At some point, I may decide I feel like spending half an hour with the topic and I’ll post something. Until then, I leave you with the question.
Another question on the man/woman front: how do you, my dear readers, feel about blind dates? I find myself faced with my second (2nd) offer this year to be set up on one, and I admit it leaves me feeling a little cynical. My proven track record aside, I react to the offers with some resentment and a lot of embarrassment. You don’t think I can get a date on my own? I want to ask with all sorts of righteous indignation. Only the indignation isn’t righteous at all, really. Clearly I can’t, and maybe this is the way it has to be, but the shattering of all my long-held illusions leaves me feeling a little flat.
And finally, related neither to men nor dating, I realize I’ve once again fallen into the terrible habit of not cooking. I buy the same items from the grocery store every time, and I eat the same meals every day, and I’m bored and lacking in certain essential nutrients. Maybe some of my local friends would be up for a weekly cooking date, where we hang out and prep meals for the coming week. We could even do swaps at that point. I’ll make lasagna, you make chicken, and we’ll split and freeze. I’m half kidding, but would love to hear if you’ve developed a system that works and allows you to try new foods without taking up your whole weekend.
This concludes today’s disjointed ramblings. Next time, a real post. I