When you live alone and spend lots of time alone in a city where you know basically no one, you tend to talk to yourself. Don't judge me--I'm an excellent conversationalist, after all.
Anyway, I just had the funniest little conversation with myself in my head. I thought I'd replicate it here for you. We'll call the sides of the conversation "L1" and "L2."
L1: Holy cow! I can't believe how much it has rained. And it's supposed to rain at least another inch tomorrow! It's craziness!
L2 (clearly, the more calm part of my internal conversations): Yep, it's soggy out there.
L1: But just think about it! There are puddles EVERYWHERE! Water is racing down my street. And another inch tomorrow? Where will it all go??
L2: (silently humiliated by other half)
L1: Oh yeah! The ocean, that's where it'll go. What's at the end of the street? The East River. It'll all just run into that. Huh. Guess it's not a big deal, then. But still, WOW!
Fortunately, I had this conversation silently, so no one around me at school got to witness that brilliant moment. I can't help it if I forget that I'm next to the ocean, and that I forget that there's not additional rain flooding down toward me from mountains above. I've got YEARS of training in that, and only moments of being a near-ocean dweller.
And for what it's worth, we don't need to worry about too much flooding here: I brought most of the water inside with me in my shoes.
5 comments:
haha!
I remember when I was in Michigan and all to my lonely self, I had several Gollum/Sméagol moments. So either it's normal, or we're both weird together...
No problem talking to yourself.
No problem arguing with yourself.
When you start losing the arguments, then you most likely need therapy...
:-) Love you wish I was there to enjoy the rain.
You're talking to yourself in the mirror again....REALLY bad sign...
I still lecture the kids about not wasting water, like dumping the rainwater out of the water table in the yard. Hard to lose the desert habits.
Forget the rain. Don't you remember all the deep piles of slushy snow at every curb where we needed to step into the street.
Get thee to a rain boot shop!
I totally empathize, Liz. My conversations with myself are some of my favorites. Wait, did I say that out loud? And yes, you are a VERY good conversationalist.
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