I am growing stranger by the minute. And by that I mean I am becoming a stranger.
Like on the train. There's this guy I call Creepy Creeperson who stares openly at me. He creeps me out to the point that I myself become creepy by watching the back of his head until he turns around to stare, at which point I pretend to be fascinated with the upper seating area of the train.
And also. I am getting to the point where I never want to leave my assigned comfort zone. I am becoming agoraphobic, which means soon I'll be fat.
And I find myself checking my work email from home.
And I can't bring myself to fold my laundry once it's finished in the dryer.
Maybe I have allergies? That's the first thing my mom would propose. You aren't agoraphobic, you're just allergic to bullshit and sunshine. And you're also lazy. But you have nice freckles.
Thanks, Mom! All better!