“I don’t want children,” I once said to my eleventh grade Calculus teacher.
I can’t remember the context though or why it was even brought up. This may seem crazy, but I don’t usually make a habit of sharing my reproductive choices with everyone, nevermind 40-something year old, slightly balding high school math teachers.
He paused a moment and then nodded once, decisively. “You are going to come back to your ten year reunion with five kids hanging off your arm, I’m sure of it.”
This weather, you guys.
Last weekend it snowed six inches. This week it has been in the high 40’s. Sometimes balmy. Sometimes that balmy day ends in “a wintery mix” of snow and sleet. Or, the old New England standby: rain.
I have three overcoats in operation, each of a varying thickness, warmth, and permeability (this last is now more important than ever since my umbrella gave up the ghost during Boston’s last rain-and-furious-wind storm, may it rest in peace). Choosing which coat to wear before I walk out the door is tantamount to planning a military operation. This is weather in New England.