A few weeks ago I received a bit of feedback from a concerned subscriber, noting that my writing about being knocked up just wasn’t her thing. I reminded her that while I do discuss my uterus from time to time, we also spend these weeks together contemplating the cheesemaking habits
of nineteenth-century Swiss innkeepers, Joan Crawford’s hosting tips
, and simple instructions
for building a culinary time machine out of school cafeteria pizza.
What I’m saying is that I contain multitudes, Maureen. And that one of the beautiful things we frequently forget is that we’re free to opt out of the internet and its offerings at any time. Which she did.
Before she left, though, she explained that she was child-free by choice, which of course I can respect. There are too many people on this planet. The world is both freezing over and burning down. We might blow ourselves up soon. Sleeping in and doing things that satisfy you and not 3-D printing humans with your body are all great choices. I explained that I, too, will be child-free until May, when I join the cult of motherhood. Do I get a club card? A new haircut
? Only time will tell.