Giving up facebook has alerted me to the facts that I am not as funny as I thought and that I have a serious addiction to knowing what other people think of me. Blech to both of those. It turns out that all the witty status updates that I’d been inflicting on all my “friends” aren’t so witty when written down in a moleskine for my amusement alone. I don’t even care that the spirals on my ham don’t go all the way up, why would you?
Before I deactivated my account – deactivated because I think you have to sell a pinky toe in order to be able to actually cancel it – I let everyone know I’d be leaving and to please send me their contact information if they had any real desire to keep in touch. I suppose one or two might simply have not been checking facebook that week, but really the turnout was about what I expected. My real friends, people with whom I have a rapport, and a few nut cases, sent me their info. The folks who had friended me to see if I’d gotten fat just kept quiet. Good for them. And good for me.
Happily, I’ve been filling up my hours just fine with laundry and dishes. I’ve also been working on a new way to bathe the baby.