The Mistress of Sarcasm.
Well, now that all the shouting is over and the Mistress of Sarcasm has her degree, it’s time to pack up the U-Haul and schlep all of her crap back home.
To our home, at least. How long it will be her home is anybody’s guess. She doesn’t have to worry about us sawing her corner off the table and breaking her plate - at least not just yet, but we know she will want to move on.
That is the most painful moment in a parent’s life - and the happiest. For as much as we want our children to be children forever, we also want them to be Fully Functional and Happy Adults, which means establishing their own lives and making their own way in the world. We did it, back in the day - and now it’s their turn.
Now, all I have to do is not rupture anything major whilst humping furniture down a narrow flight of stairs in a vintage-1917 building. Boy, oh boy.
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