How are you?
How am I what?
One of my contact lenses is wonky. I desperately want to claw it out of my eye, but I’m covering for the receptionist Up Front and a clawed-out-eyeball isn’t exactly welcoming to the public.
So now, I’m inadvertently winking a weepy eye at everyone who comes through the doors. It’s already awkward, sitting beneath a sign that proclaims Mo-Town “a safe, active and vibrant city where people choose to raise a family, grow business and enjoy life.”
Most people snicker at it. Every once in a while, someone snaps a photo and you have to duck behind the monitor so you’re not in the shot that they’re about to send out on Instagram with a snarky caption.
It’s not like I wrote it, man.
In the book, in fact, I called it a dirty little tweaker town, which I sometimes feel bad about.
Not real bad, but, a little.
Growing up, we all wanted to get out of here and most of us did. When J. and I returned, we met people who love it here, who stayed on purpose. We got a peek into the art community and the local music scene. (both quite lovely) We met people who were actively working to make this town a better place. They’re why I feel bad about the dirty little tweaker thing.
I’m not saying I’m gonna get all mushy and embrace the place but I’m working on loathing it less.
Now about this eye …