I realized yesterday that I only have five posts left to write. A year? A whole year? Seriously? And I still haven’t figured out what the hell I’m doing. My life will seem so strange without it. There have been so many changes in the last 360ish days, but this blog has been the one constant. And there are a few people who have been reading since the very beginning, back when it used to be sort of interesting. You are brave souls indeed.
Emily and I had a mother daughter morning yesterday. We went and got manicures at the Vietnamese nail/wax/barbershop around the corner from our house. A giant cockroach emerged at one point, and I think Emily might have screamed. I knew my nails would be ruined by the end of my shift, but Emily really wanted to go, and we had a nice time watching crazy Vietnamese music videos and footage from the Miss Vietnam USA pageant. It was a good reminder of the mind-blowing weirdness I escaped back in Taiwan.
Em was already in bed when I got home from work, which was disappointing. I wouldn’t have been much fun anyway with my massive headache. I hate thinking about sending her back to New York. But that’s the way it is. That’s the price I choose to pay to live a life free of crushing depression. Go ahead. Roll your eyes. You weren’t there.