Pit Stop

My apartment is nice, awesome actually. Clean, simple, bright, with just the right amount of elderly charm. I just love it to bits. My aunt referred to it as ‘Sami Central’ once, in fun, dropping me back home after a family function, and I immediately scooped the name up. It just suits my place so well šŸ™‚

But honestly, a cruder renaming has been occurring covertly. ‘Pit Stop.’ That’s the new name. Or maybe ‘Free Wifi’?Ā Because nineĀ times out of ten anyone who stops by doesn’t actually visit, they just need the bathroom or the internet, or a couch to take a brief respite on between the day’s activities. And I’m a little annoyed. And offended.

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The other day I asked my parents if they had time to stop by my place for 45.

“Yes…? Just wondering what for?” was the response. Oh, I don’t know…heaven forbid you might actually want to have a relaxing conversation with your firstborn on her own turf… Or engage in the social activity otherwise known as ‘visiting’?…Sheesh!

Allow me to demonstrate: just you (the visitor), me, my apartment, some tasty edibles, some drinks and a good old conversation. Maybe we do some window-shopping, maybe we go for ice cream. Maybe we watch a movie. But nobody is running around like a headless chicken, this time together is not an afterthought, modes of transportation and schedules are of no consequence, and no one is compelled to utter the word “Sorry” or constantly monitor one’s electronic devices; stress levels are down, and happiness is up.

I firmly believe it can be done.

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