identity

Colin and I are back to our familiar routine of looking for an apartment. It’s much easier this time around now that we have a car, know what neighborhoods are nice, and I have a job that I need to live near. On Saturday Colin I were looking around a cute neighborhood called Concord. It’s sort of a trendy area with lots of shops, and Colin wanted to try out the fish and chips restaurant. When we walked in, the employee greeted us and said, “Hi boys, what can I get you?” I looked at him and waited for him to notice that I was not a boy, looked surprised, and then sheepish. Unfortunately there was none of that. I laughed it off and attributed it to my hat hair and giant boy sweater that I was wearing.

Today we wanted to have a Sunday BBQ in the park, so Colin, our friend Drew, and myself, brought our food and had a late lunch. When we were passing the soccer ball around afterwards, a chunky 8 year old girl came up to me and asked me if I was a boy or a girl. I hope she was confused because I was wearing a hat. I looked at the little girl, and said “boy” and she said, “oh, okay” and then left me alone in my shame.

If anyone asks me what gender I am tomorrow, I’m going to say hermaphrodite and punch ‘em in the face.

In other news, I dropped a glass pot lid but then caught it, then dropped it again, and smashed it into a million pieces. I couldn’t find our mini broom so instead I vacuumed it up. Colin suggested emptying the filter and vacuuming a second time for ultimate suctioning power. I’ve never emptied the filter before, but now know that when you press the button, the BOTTOM opens up. So once again, I vacuumed up all the glass, and even managed to get it in the nooks and crannies of the vacuum itself. Many minutes after initially dropping the glass lid, it was all cleaned up. The moral of the story is not to attempt housework when you’re lethargic.

E.