I am that woman from the movie, the scene where she gets ready for bed, while talking to her husband. She’s looking at her phone, picking a book from the stack on her nightstand, chatting the whole time about nothing. She climbs in bed. She takes of her ring. Then, she moisturizes her hands.
I didn’t think that happened in real life. Who does that, really? I just did that. Oh, dear Reader, I’m that woman in her late thirties. The one that has hand lotion at the ready. Can I blame the cold, dry New England winter?
When did I become this snapshot of life that is so common it’s in every rom com and drama? How did I get here?