I've come to the conclusion that my purpose in life right now is to feed.
I feed the baby. I am the milk bar. Every couple of hours, he cries, and I wip out the booby.
I feed my boyfriend-- whenever he is home in time for dinner.
I feed the cats. Not as much as they'd like, but they'd like to be as round as piggies.
I feed myself. If I didn't I would have nothing to feed the baby. Plus I'd be mighty grumpy and no one would want to be around me.
I also-- and this is the most annoying one-- feed the mosquitos of Brooklyn. Good lord. Head to toe, and lots of places in between. Big pink welts that take turns itching me to distraction.
This has been quite a summer.