Everyone told me that once I had a baby, my brain would turn into jello pudding and I’d be as productive as a sloth on mushrooms. “Don’t try to get anything done,” they urged me. “Because you’ll fail.” I was determined to prove them wrong. The new me was going to multitask better than Martha Stewart on amphetamines. The result? I put socks in the fridge and plastic bags in
During my years of singledom I blamed San Francisco’ urbanity, technology, and Peter Pan inhabitants for my interminable alone state. Then it dawned on me…perhaps the the dating problem wasn’t external…perhaps the problem was ME. Lazy, egotistical, impetuous me. If the city was full of Peter Pans, then I was Captain Hook, out to sea with drunken pirates. I asked them to walk the plank anytime things got too tough.