I just got off the phone with a dear friend who I love, and she recommended that I get myself to a city because my blogs are "too cranky."I might point out that she is A, a New Yorker and B, an adorable, cheery sort who has always--I met her in the sixth grade--had a smile as her umbrella. What Diane doesn't realize is that even if I "got a life," which she suggested I do, and moved back to New York, which she would heartily endorse and which would be great fun because we could do some stuff together, I would still be cranky. Because despite all the Pilates classes and the museums and the theater and the opera and the symphony and the restaurants, there would still be crazy bombers and war everywhere and 615 dead people in that collapsed clothing factory in Bangladesh. And I think that's why I'm cranky most of the time.
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