Still trying to figure out how to live my life like Nick and Nora Charles… how I long for the days of taking your puppy out for a walk in an evening gown and tuxedo- martini in hand, cleverness to be had at every turn! In reality, it’s all I can do not to put my pajamas on the minute I walk in the door of my shabby little apartment.
I guess it helps, being jobless billionaires and all; yet, soon I’ll have the jobless part down… the billionaire part? We’ll see. I’ll soon be embarking full time on a new adventure: the life of a writer. At last.
But the one thing I will never understand: the more Nick and Nora drink, the more charming and witty they become. The more I drink, the more sleepy. It is starting to seem as if I was not meant for a life of delighted effervescence but a life spent squinting at my computer- instead of martinis, a cup of coffee; in place of an evening gown, an old bathrobe- just hoping and trying to write characters and words of delighted effervescence, stories worthy of William Powell and Myrna Loy…
I think that’s a compromise I can live with.
