Wait Just a Dingy Minute

After living in Atlanta for seven weeks, flying home for two days and then immediately shipping off to New York, I got kind of sad.

There just wasn't any time to decompress. No time to process anything. In some ways, maybe it was good. Like ripping off a giant, life-sized band-aid.

For a few days, I'm pretty sure I only left the apartment for a bagel. I justified it by taking the stairs more frequently. While I was eating the bagel.

Every time I talked to anyone from home, I burst into tears. There were a lot of moments of wanting to curl up into a ball and only listen to Ryan Adams.

One particular day, an accidental YouTube binge occurred. (I really hope I'm not the only one that happens to).

I found Gidget. A show with a very tiny pocket-sized version of Sally Field that was canceled after one season.

She's a high schooler beach bunny that lives in California with her widower father that works as a professor at UCLA. She's funny and happy and she spends most of her time in a bathing suit and pigtails. Her real name is Frances Lawrence.

For whatever reason, I like it way too much when I share names with famous characters. Because Fran isn't the most contemporary of names, and Fran's really have to stick together.

If Gidget was happy and okay, then surely I would be, too. It was time to stop eating bagels, feeling sorry for myself for having a couple of lonely days, and to explore the exciting city.

Is that thinking rational, or logical? No, not at all.

Did I buy the complete series anyway? Yes, yes I did.

Yes, Gidget is sandwiched between Dickens and Melville. It only seemed right.