The other week, the neighbor kids asked why 3 girls lived in our house
and only 2 "mans" went in there.
One of my nanny kids asked me to take off my engagement ring
before I tickled her, because it hurts her.
I told her I didn't have one, so I could tickle her just fine.
She said "You don't have one? You should probably go get one."
And she patted me on the shoulder.
An 8 year old told me "You're like 200 years old and you don't have a boyfriend?!
Sad life! If I were you, i'd be so mad i'd fart!"
I'm being single shamed.
Bad.
By a bunch of kids.
Well, kids. Being single isn't as much of a death sentence as you are painting it out to be.
You can fall asleep cuddling a tupperware of leftover noodles watching
things narrated by Werner Herzog every day of the week if you want.
Twice on sundays.
You can listen to Rod Stewart's greatest hits on repeat for days
because no-one's around to hear it
and Spotify private session keeps a secret like a dead girl.
You can eat everything bagels whenever the hell you want because
you don't have to worry about kissing somebody later.
Seriously, nobody should even consider dating again until they're sick of
everything bagels.
See? Not so bad.
However, this kind of week calls for a friend date
with lots of cheese and me eating my feelings in bread products.
There isn't much of a recipe to this.
Toast up some baguette slices with garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper.
Spread em with goat cheese, sprinkle them with chopped rosemary, drizzle em with honey.
To candy the walnuts, blanch them in boiling water for about 20 seconds.
Then toss them in a few handfuls of powdered sugar and sprinkle with cinnamon.
Bake them at 350 degrees for about 5 minutes.
Shove as many of these in your mouth as you can.
Plug up that feelings-hole you call a mouth with things that taste like
sweater weather and happiness.
It hurts so good.
As always, here is a playlist to carry you through your toasting
and drizzling and months of solitude.
Until the next, pretties.
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