I'm little-s sick, not big-s, which means comfort foods and TV -- soup, tater tots and Sex and the City. I have all the DVDs and pull them out maybe once every 2 years or so. My favorite is the fourth season -- John Corbett's back and he's got a great haircut, which is as important as those kinds of things can be for me. So I'm on the grossness couch, I'm watching, I'm watching, and then it happens again: Miranda's mom dies. She dies every single time. I don't know why it surprises me each time it happens, but it does. And EVERY time, I cry. Oh, I cry and cry. It's silly.
A recurring theme in the season is also relevant to me right now -- how much to compromise in a relationship. And I must say that I've got no wisdom here. I mean, I see female friends of mine making changes in their lives when they get in relationships and I think secret judgmental thoughts about them. But you know, I'm the one of us who's married. What's more, I've started cooking, and last night I sewed a button on Jeffrey's pants! I think 10-years-ago me would freak out at such a development. Today me isn't sure. Am I falling into some kind of wifely trap? Or is this just how it goes in a relationship? He's certainly had to make changes to accommodate me. I mean, you know me, right?
Anyway, it's not like any of this has any meaning. Evil Brian sent me this quote the other day:
We are small, our time is limited, people are shitty, death claims us all. The only lasting marks we leave in this world are the results of our actions, not our internal monologues.
It's from a blog, and it about says it all, I think.