my angelica
i went to visit my nieces a few weeks ago. they are twins, and toddlers, and every inch the archetypal cute little girls. they have matching ringlet blonde hair and rosy cheeks, they speak their own mysterious twin-language and "help" with the gardening and ride their scooters naked except for kneepads and wellies. let's call them indigo and edith.unsurprisingly they also have a rather idyllic relationship with their next-door neighbour. i have never met these people - but imagine him to wear deck shoes and her to have a large collection of scrunchies. I am going to call their daughter Angelica. I have never met her either, but I picture her as rather pale and sickly looking with an alice band and black hair - rather like the sort of child who would haunt you if she were a ghost. i very much doubt she looks anything like that at all.
indigo has recently taken to believing that she is, sometimes Angelica, and when she feels like it, will only answer to the name Angelica and demands to be carried everywhere - like Angelica.
my niece is sooo smart.
this is the only time in her entire life where she can legitimately stand her ground and demand to be treated like somebody else. indigo can take a holiday from herself anytime she wants - and presumably she's successfully taking a holiday from her twin sister edith, who looks so much like her that even i hesitate sometimes to call their names until i've recalled and computed their ever-so-slightly-different face shapes.
i WISH i had my own Angelica next door to switch with. I, Darling Vicarage could continue with the washing up and working, the daily make-up and hair straightening and renewal of travelcards, whilst the other I, Angelica, could pack up her stuff and go rent a studio flat in Prague and write on good quality paper and smoke cheap Lucky Strike.
minifig and i had a chat about free will today - he reckons human beings don't have free will, but i think we do, else the daily struggle of not throwing my entire life in the bin in exchange for returning to Prague wouldn't feel so real every morning when the alarm sings to me at 6.20 . but then, we do need to pay the morgage. perhaps i feel like this because today marks exactly one year of service in my not-so-bad McJob..... i was meant to be going my Masters this year, but somehow i've ended up with a job I (quite) like, and a mortgage ... how did this happen?
posted by raspberry beret @ 7:13:00 PM
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