The woman next door with the hilarious dog is playing piano. The strains of songs I can't recognize are filtering through the walls, and it all seems familiar to me.
Last night I hung out at a classy restaurant with people who have money.
I can't really comprehend spending hundreds of dollars for a pair of sunglasses. Or 14 dollars for a glass of wine.
I felt sort of uncomfortable in my grubby sneakers and homemade haircut.
It was fun. We laughed a lot. It felt like a less-fabulous Sex in the City.
I took an extreme dip into hipster-hood on thursday night. It's true. I found myspef working the door at an Art School after-party. A cute boy came to speak to me. It inflated my ego a little, which needed a little help that day. Earlier a customer had asked me when my due date was. I went to the bathroom to cry. This has been happening a lot. Too much. Weird. But you know, I came home, had a nap. Changed my shirt, and put on some mascarra....and felt fine.
I sometimes think that mascarra is miracle-worker.
