I am cry about everything years old. I cry when a fictional character in a book dies. I cry watching commercials. I cry when somebody else is sad. I cry when I’m happy. As soon as I hear someone saying, “awww,” I know I’m going to be crying soon. I cry so often that I should be dehydrated. The fact that I am an ugly crier with a nose that turns red and drips snot when my eyes are leaking only adds to the misery of crying about everything and nothing.
So, when Starving Artist told me that she can’t get off work to come home for Christmas, guess what I did? I’m having a cryabetes pity party for one. If you see me out and about, throw a handkerchief at me and run away. Save yourself from the sad clown wiping her nose on her sleeve.