Refrigerator Delivery

It's been a month since I've had the time to write about any useful tips to surviving Rome, or any city for that matter. It's just that lately nothing has popped into my head. Even though Rome is full of wonderful and exciting things to do on a daily basis, I'm not really in the mood to think condescendingly helpful.

I spent two weeks on the beach on vacation, and all day today in my house waiting for the refrigerator delivery guy. An incredible amount of time for reflection-- and not just checking the mirror to make sure my lunch time bikini look was ever so slightly more casual than my evening beach look. No, the reflection I'm talking about goes deeper than my savage tan left over from the Maldives that is now peeling off my legs in a stylish giraffe print pattern, deeper than my twice daily skin hydration treatments that will keep me looking young and give me something to talk about, and finally deeper than the incredible hunger I have at this exact moment since I have no fridge, no food and have been confined to the house since 8am waiting for the delivery guy to arrive.

Thoughts so engaging and profound that I am obligated to share them with you as I hope they will spawn discussion and eventual world peace. Yes, I'm talking about the possibility of having an accessory boyfriend. While I was ironing (between noon and now), making everything perfect so that I have a wide range of clothing to choose from for tonight's evening out (boyfriend, sushi, movie and/or drinks), I realized that I am a (potentially) great accessory. Cute, well pressed and bilingual enough to shut up and pretend I have no idea what you are talking about, provided that my sugar levels are maintained high. Why oh why shouldn't I be blessed with a nice accessory boyfriend as well? Flatteringly possessive and happily laid back when I want to go out without him. Wallet ready for evenings out with and without me. Perfectly dressed for every time he needs to be unveiled-- including dogwalking, gossiping with girlfriends and other forms of idle pratter. I am going to work on this and will get back to you.

Other thoughts that helped me to iron the most perfect cuffs on my favorite birthday shirt, circa Y2K:

  • Is it normal that somedays I talk only to my dog and believe that she will answer?
  • Is it mean to invite backburner wannabe boyfriends to dinner?
  • Is the Smart Car environmentally safe? Wasn't it supposed to be?
  • Is there an environmentally safe Mini Cooper?
  • Why is Piazza Navona omitted from Rome's new WiFi network but Villa Ada is included?
  • Why was there never an awesome Hurricane Erica?
  • Why do all my neighbors say "hi, welcome back, saw your boyfriend drop you off, you didn't look happy and you were missing a button on your jacket", yet no one said anything when my bike was stolen?
  • Could I create a file to organize and cross-reference all the clothing I have acquired, worn inappropriately and forgot about, thus maximizing wearability, style and mix-n-match?
  • How come Anastasia (the singer) never became popular in America (after winning some MTV contest) but here is a pop queen, so royal that she could usurp Grace Kelly's place and marry Andrew of Monaco? (By the way, I have never heard ONE song of hers outside of Europe.)
  • Should I cut my own hair?
  • Where the fuck is my refrigerator?