Sunday night of the Keep Busy weekend.

No one wants to be the mopey girlfriend, least of all me. Chris went back to WI for a long weekend of camping and canoeing (aka Mosquito Bite Central) and, anticipating potential loneliness, I tried to organize weekend activities far in advance.

It's a fine line between thrilled-with-your-6-month-boyfriend and appearing-clingy-like-the-worst-Saran-Wrap. Nah, that's not true. It's not actually a fine line, but I think girls see it thinner than it actually is.

I ended up with a fantastic weekend, full of friend dinners and brunches and museums and lounging and babysitting for Sima's sleeping baby. (Can it really be called babysitting if you never actually *see* the sleeping baby? Seems more like couch-sitting...). And yesterday afternoon, I got my first 300 project job, writing a section on Greenpoint for a "Living in NY" guide. Today, my second job: writing the section on Williamsburg. Soon to be $30 in pocket in total. Two days in and I'm already at 10%.

Productive, social weekend. Boyfriend who?

Last week at a birthday party for the lovely Goldrick. Girl in the kitchen, looks so familiar. We're eyeing each other until I say "Did you go to Muhlenberg like 90% of this party?" Negative. We try other guesses. Did you ever live in France? Rye? Work on a farm in Italy??

Then finally, Yorktown High School. This girl was a photographer for the newspaper when I was EIC. Now she works with Goldrick. Crazy. Such random connections always freak me out.

Today, at the Guggenheim, I'm hiking up the slanted walk with Anne. Suddenly a feeling comes over me, something feels incredulous, like I just ran into someone I know at a random place. I shake it off, easy as it came, remembering last weekend's party.

Not two steps later, there's Kate, a buddy from Middlebury Paris. Last time we saw each other, we were graduating with Master's in Vermont two years ago. I'm sufficiently freaked out. I mean, come on NY. I don't know THAT many people. And yet my rate of running into familiar faces in a city with 9 million people is off the charts. Enough that my friends make jokes about it.

Enough that sometimes I wonder about coincidences.


Yesterday morning, one blue Morning Glory opens herself along the fire escape. This morning there are three. The garden adds an extra dimension to the apartment, a crazy, changing section of my living space. Other than the cat, who follows me incessantly from one room to the next, the rest of the place stays the same. Dirty dishes, sadly, do not wash themselves.

It's the greatest thing about plants. They're just living here parallel, going through their life cycles alongside us. Thrive on some love and water and sunshine, but capable of photosynthesizing on their own.

Good role models.

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