One thing that happened in the first few weeks of the quarantine was that Mary and I had to get used to spending so much time with each other. You see, the two of us have a lot of opinions and emotions, so many that we had to move some furniture and take down a few walls in our house to make room for all of it.
Mary is observant, direct, and always talking. Particularly, she’s always observing me…(Choose your best burn.)
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One morning I said something about needing to go get dressed.
Mary responds, “But you don’t really get dressed…do you? You just change out of your pajamas into…other pajamas.”
One of the reasons I admire Mary is that she is tirelessly committed to breaking me out of the “sweatpants and sweatshirt” look that I have been refining for the past decade or so. One morning she started telling me this story about what a (fictional) mom that she happens to know.
“Mom, did you know there’s this mom I know who dresses up EVERY DAY! She doesn’t even have a job! She just wears jewelry and dresses and high heels because she WANTS to. What do you think about that, MOM?”
While I’m in the kitchen, minding my own business…
Mary – Hey Mom, did you know your name is old?
Me – What?
Mary – You have an old name. I’m not saying that YOU’RE old. But everyone named Amanda is old. There are no young people named Amanda. But YOU are not old.
Me – Thanks, Mary
Mary – It’s just that! —
Me – Thanks, Mary. I got it.
One evening when I was hugging Mary before bed.
Mary – Did you go running? Because you smell…runny.
