I’m pretty sure I’m going to be asked to leave any second now

My office at home is filled with baby clothes that I’ll never get up the gumption to sell on eBay, mountains of wrapping paper I bought at Target because it was 90% off so I figured it would be fiscally irresponsible of me not to purchase thirty-seven rolls, and boxes from college filled with incense and flannel pants and outdated geography text books, so I have to go someplace else when I want to write.  My favorite place to set up shop is Dunkin Donuts, but when I go there I end up writing about Donuts–or ninjas, or nearly severed thumbs.  I don’t do so well at coffee shops either because I have ZERO attention span and after about ten minutes I find myself clipping coupons from the newspapers on the rack or blabbing to strangers about how much my cat weighs or how my blog comes up #1 when you google balls hanging out of shorts.

So when I really want to get something done I usually go to the library at Duke’s business school because we paid a lot of money for SAHS to go there–including the babysitting money I was going to use to get a boob job–so I figure I have every right to continue to use the library four years after he graduated.  Plus they have these great orange chairs there that are just right for taking a nap.  Seeing as how I do not actually go to school here, and therefore have no right to use said library or nap chairs, I try to fit in when I come to the business school so I don’t get kicked out.  Here are a couple of reasons why I’m not fooling anyone.

1. Instead of a brief case or a Coach bag, I am carrying a backpack with my name on the front of it.  It smells vaguely of cat pee.

2. My resume includes the job title “Trophy Wife.”

3. My phone shouts “Ring a ding ding dinga dong! Ring a ding ding dinga ding dong!” into the absolute silence of the place because I am the only one who forgot to put their phone on vibrate.  Plus I’m pretty sure no one else here has that ring tone.

4. I have a spiral bound notebook with a glittery peacock on the front of it.

5. Up until about three months ago I thought a hedge fund involved a jar of change and a dream of a shrubbery.

6. I have never owned a big girl watch.  The one I am sporting is both digital and made out of plastic.  And I am wearing a necklace that prominently features a dinosaur wearing a rhinestone studded necklace on its neck and tail.  I’m sitting by a window and every time the sun hits it the crystal at the bottom throws rainbows all over the guy sitting across from me.

7. Speaking of the guy sitting across from me, he has a stack of papers next to his computer with the words “Sustainability Report: A Legacy of Dependability and Responsibility” on the front.  I have a Cosmo magazine and a bag of Cheetos next to mine.  (The guy just caught me looking at his stack of papers.  I’m not sure what the proper protocol for such a thing is so I winked because I don’t have a business card to hand him.  Note to self: Get some business cards with “Trophy Wife” on them.)

And yes, I realize that I just spent a half an hour writing about why I stick out like a sore thumb instead of finishing the essay I was supposed to be working on.  F.  I’m terrible.