Okay, so I’m supposed to be reading the Dos Passos book — and I am, kind of. I read (and even enjoyed) about 75 of its 1000 pages before “taking a break” with this bit of cheesy summer chick-lit pleasure.
Even though I am more broke than I have ever been before in my life (even more than when I thought a $1-a-week-allowance was huge) and I am working a thousand hours a week (or maybe closer to 60) and I am finally understanding what Angi meant when she talked about staring into the abyss of life after graduation and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, I am determined to enjoy my summer. What can I say, I like a challenge.
After being terrified by my own Casper-white reflection every morning for the past week, I set out on Saturday with a goal in mind. That goal: get a tan. Or a burn. Or even some freckles – anything to break up the scary-pale look that causes others to go blind if they look directly at me in the sunlight. Normally, I’m anti-tan, pro-sunscreen, but I got tired of looking like the female brunette version of Conan O’Brien. So I spent a few hours outdoors – sitting at Caribou, walking around the Gardens, and paddleboating – and bam! Thanks to the ongoing fight in my genetics between my mother’s Irish-whiteness and my father’s “where the hell did this come from” shade, I’m much less scary (looking) in the morning now.