I was back at the Crocodile last night, almost full circle from two weeks ago, sitting next to the same person. The three of us were chatting--or, anyway, the two of them were reminiscing and I was giggling--when a drunken fellow swayed over and asked if he could take our picture. Adam, much quicker on the uptake, rabbited up from the booth and away from the man with the camera, saying, "You can take a picture of them."
Caroline and I exchanged glances, unsure what to do. This doesn't happen to either one of us, and so we sat there looking dumbly at each other while he took his picture and left.
Today, after a lovely lunch with the lovely Ryan, I wandered around town trying to shop for clothes. This is always a terrible and frustrating process because I am smaller than the vast majority of the population over the age of twelve, and also because everything currently in style makes me look pregnant. I wish that I was being hyperbolic, but I'm not, and as a result spent most of my day off grumbling. Which was still better than staying in my office and doing the same thing.
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