Hillery eventually learned not to say everything that came to mind. Some were too good not to write down.
Lately I’ve been living on friends’ sofas because I rented out my bedroom to my roommate’s family for the Thanksgiving fortnight. The realization that I wouldn’t be out of town with the ex or squirreled away with him in the middle of nowhere, as we’d planned for so long, was at first quite painful. Yet here in my adorable hotel room in DC, all alone in my king size bed with my exile nearly over, it seems hilarious.
I used to live in a much bigger apartment. It had two bedrooms, five closets, a double parlor, a sun room, and a big balcony, all of which was falling apart. Plaster flaked from the ceilings, the bathroom walls were molding, and the linoleum in the kitchen was older than me. The floorboards creaked mysteriously at night. It was the ideal floor plan in the House of Usher. It was also cheap and big enough to accommodate some serious entertaining. I had a propane grill out on the balcony and served homemade barbecue in the summer. One year I had thirty-five friends over for a Thanksgiving Turkey buffet. I would clean up for a week afterward. What I loved about it was the sense of accomplishment in entertaining people in a manner largely lost on my generation.