I didn't go anywhere. I am just broke and in hiding. When I take X and Bella out for our morning walk to the corner bar, I find myself humming the opening bars of "Hey Big Spender. . . " At home, the dinner menu is on repeat, only getting creative with vermicelli noodles from the cheap and cheerful market around the corner. Blogging, talking and writing all seem like expenditures I can't afford. I can't stand it. Even when I was a deliberately broke and struggling art student, I had fun. I don't remember feeling like this since the 1970s.
My mom always says to look for the positive. To segue, I have been obsessed with the 70s for the past few months. Maybe its my hair. Maybe its my vain penchant for dressing up X in my baby clothes. Or maybe its just that the safe place I go to in my head is a soft-focus image of 1976 Bicentennial Celebration where my older sister is dressed as Betsy Ross in a mini-dress.
Free things to do in Rome when broke and with baby:
1. Walk around any market. Babies are always given pizza bianca. Fat babies who demand food by insistently extending their arms get more.
2. Go to Auditorium and spin on the revolving group swing thing
3. Nothing else.