Some censuring Readers will scornfully say, why hath this Lady writ her own life? Since none cares to know whose daughter she was or whose wife she is, or how she was bred, or what fortunes she had, or how she lived, or what humor or disposition she was of? I answer that is true, that 'tis to no purpose to the Readers, but it is to the Authoress, because I write it for my own sake, not theirs. ~Margaret Cavendish in 1655
Saturday, August 11, 2007
I'm finally back in my little apartment, roasting alive. I went to Denver a week ago this past Thursday and had a delightful 4 day/3 night tour of the town. I saw the university of choice and then I went on a yarn crawl. Utterly shameful, but delightful. And my mother wonders why I'm single. Did I hit a single bar while there? No. Did I chat up ladies old enough to be my mother or grandmother? Of course I did. The best conversation I had was with a fellow who was 72 going on 73 and he ended giving me good directions. If I was a gold-digger, I would have it made in the shade. Sad, but true. And what is it with people asking my age (now proudly 30) and then asking why a nice girl like me (and who says I can't schnooker people?) isn't married? What sort of response am I supposed to have?
So, if anyone has a response that is snappy, witty or otherwise just plain good, please feel free to leave it in the remarks. Or better yet, send a cute man that travels well so that I don't have to fend off these remarks.