A journalist observes life in the far north.
At the risk of seeming like I am using this space to settle domestic scores, when I wake up in the morning to a note that says, “Need lunch food,” it only reinforces the notion that I live with a caveman.
And when I place food before the caveman’s daughter and she proceeds to throw half of it on the floor and then later goes back to the floor looking for a snack, I find myself thinking that I am raising a cavekid.
Lately, I crave the company of women. I want to be around people who value pronouns and who keep their bodily functions to themselves. I long for the company of someone who waits to talk until I am finished having my say. It would be a real treat to occasionally hear words like please and thank you without having to demand it.
Note to family: When I am in the bathroom, that is my private time. Sometimes, I don’t care to share my food. Tantrums, especially in the middle of the night, are not endearing. (This applies to you too, Jade.) Fine, throw your clothes on the bedroom floor. I do it too. But the living room? Not appropriate.
Alec and his mini me. She even holds her head like he does.