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Awake. Another day in my house watching after my son while my husband does generic important things outside. Never mind the fact that we have a fully- functioning household robot who could watch our son Shaun instead, or the fact that I’ve got a law degree on the shelf perennially collecting dust. I like to walk past it to remind myself of all the nights I spent on it only so I could live in the Boston suburbs wearing nice dresses and cool makeup that no one else here likes.
As I’m trying to get ready for the day, my husband storms into the bathroom to practice his speech on me for the hundredth time. I let my mind wander, imagining his words as a strangely high production value black-and-white film instead of paying real attention.
I’m impressed that none of the neighbors never make fun of my appearance. I’d been ratcheting it up lately, almost daring them to say something. I certainly don’t look like I fit in with the rest of them, but that…
