Not getting my starch just from potatoes anymore

A running theme I have in my life is this: I can’t believe I’m doing/have/or am experiencing X, because hot damn, look at how adult X is. [Mind you, only one X.] I’m critically aware of each encroachment of the adult human experience, and in general, really do favor it a great deal.

I told J not too long ago, when he asked me why I felt the need to be growing up and gaining responsibilities in my life, that I’ve felt I’ve had the mental capacity and status of an adult much longer than I’ve been able to enjoy the frivolity and privileges that comes from the falling pages of a calender.

Today’s catalyst: dry-cleaning. I just pulled out a ticket from my wallet that lets me know that I have one dress, one blouse, two slacks, and one skirt waiting for me at a dry cleaners in town on Friday at five. It’s like in the movies! …Except I putter up on my scooter instead of a Caddie.

Perhaps this is how it’s done in Italian movies.


3 Responses to Not getting my starch just from potatoes anymore

  1. Now for some reason that reminds me of 60s France via the films of Jean-Pierre Melville, where everybody randomly has meetings at one in the morning at very hopping bars and the criminal element is just a business to be busted up by bad luck or shifty cops. I don’t know why.

  2. firewings says:

    Do they ride scooters with scarves?

  3. Definitely scarves, but not so many scooters. It’s more small Euro cars.

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