Origami out of a Refrigerator

Honestly, I’m a walking cliche – I’m an over-educated, unemployed, very unhappily single 34 year-old woman, living alone in the People’s Republic of Cambridge, Massachusetts. All I’m missing is a cat (Landlord says I can’t have one).

Ummm…what else…

I’m tall. I’m plus-size (and don’t think that combo doesn’t scar you for life). I hate most household chores, but I would do laundry every day if I could. I also don’t mind cleaning the bathroom. I have something of both an eidetic memory and hyperthymesia (really – it’s way more of a curse than a blessing). I like chocolate and baked goods. I hate anything peach or cherry-flavored. I’m either smarter than I think I am or way less than intelligent than everyone else seem to think I am. I have astigmatisms in both eyes; I wear my glasses more often than my contacts. After spending ten months as a blonde, I have new appreciation for my natural brunette color. I often feel like a little bit of my talent as a performer is dying every day. I can kill a plastic fern yet I’ve kept African violets alive for over fouryears.

I’m expected to save the world. Because when you’re a highly-intelligent plus-size woman with somewhat unconventional looks, background, and resume, that’s pretty much what everyone expects of you. But I don’t want to save the world. I did my part; I’m done.

What I want, what I’ve always really wanted more than anything, is a normal, stable life. I want to get married and have 1-2.3 children. I want well-paying job with good benefits in which I get to do something I like. I want regular hours, but flexible enough that I can still be Soccer Mom with a hybrid SUV. I want quality time with my husband. I want a large home in the suburbs (but not small-town) with a yard and a pool (and a lawn service and a pool guy).

And I’m a Yankees fan. Deal with it.