Carded.

So I wasn’t actually carded yesterday, but the cashier at Waitrose asked “Excuse me. How old are you?” because I was buying a small bottle of cider. I actually laughed and had to confirm she was talking to me. Because, friends, while in the US, getting asked if you’re old enough to buy alcohol might be a compliment. Here: it’s more like being told you look like a child. That’s what happens when I don’t put make-up on before leaving the house. Lesson learned.

Other than that, yesterday I: bought pillows for the bed in the guest bedroom so Elaine and Russ have something to sleep on in two weeks, got in a fight with an employee at Vodafone, and made a new friend in our local cafe. I went out with my Red Sox hat on for the first time yesterday because I needed coffee BAD and was not willing to shower before achieving that goal. So cafe owner now knows I’m clearly not from around here, and asks where I’m from. And—I know this will upset some of you—we just say “New York” because it’s easier. Please God let Chan never read this, because I will never live it down. I know—we lived in New Jersey. Please don’t think I’m mistaken. But saying “Jersey City, which is right across the river from Manhattan, which has 24-hour public transportation into it, where I worked for eight years and spent 96% of my social life and waking hours? (pause.) Yes, it’s right near Hoboken.” doesn’t really have the same ring to it.

So I got my latte and was left with a departing: “See you soon, Girl From New York!” In my Sox hat. I felt so conflicted, I almost wanted to go back and ask him if he had a minute to sit down and hear the full story.

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