A Room of My Own
Today, I discovered this--Biggy's stash of socks, hidden back on the shelf of his closet, behind the hanging shirts and sweaters. Sad, isn't it, that a man would resort to this hamster-like behavior. These are HIS nuts, so to speak. Living in a house where no one has any respect for ownership or autonomy is hard. Your stuff just trickles out of your drawers and cabinets. Some kid you've never met before comes into the kitchen wearing your favorite Club Lavela t-shirt that's been missing since 1999. I've had to hide my toothbrush, for chrissakes. Not to mention writing my initials in my panties with a sharpie. Nothing is sacred, I tell you. When BlueMagoo and George were going through puberty, their hormones trumped mine, trying to draw my body into sync. Seriously, I couldn't even have my own period.