I don't like to go out.
I mean, I go out. I go to the store, to the beach - you know, regular life. But if I'm sitting around the house it doesn't occur to me to go out. Just like it doesn't occur to me to call someone on the phone.
I hate talking on the phone.
Recently my husband and I have been making a great effort to get out once in a while. We're going out to dinner with friends, catching live music and are constantly reminded of why we stay home in the first place.
People drive like fucking maniacs!
Venturing out to dinner one night in New Haven, which is about 45 minutes away, we saw no less than seven possibly drunk and certainly reckless drivers. And I'm not being a fuddy duddy. Well, maybe I am being a fuddy duddy, but with good reason.
I want to live long enough to get home from dinner!
Let's face it, people drive like assholes when they're sober. Once they're three sheets to the wind their ability to responsibly navigate the interstate has been seriously compromised.
Someone should do an ad campaign about that. Let people know they shouldn't drive drunk. Maybe a group of moms would be interested in that.
So yesterday, when it came time for dinner, we walked down the street. That's it. Like, two blocks.
How nice is that?
I'm not even talking about the food, it was good but that's not the point. To just be able to walk down the street and get a good meal and walk home with leftovers doling out slices of pizza to our favorite convenience store clerks in exchange for candy.
Why, I almost felt as if I lived in a real neighborhood.
Oh, it's a hood. And I've got neighbors. But I guess it's hard to connect the two, even if only for a moment.
So, there's something to be said.
I hope I said it.
Bang on, my peeps!