I’ve spent the last half-hour being the biggest self-bully I think I’ve ever been. I was in the midst of baking hamburger buns (coincidentally the best buns ever) when my doorbell rang! What a lovely surprise! I opened it to my neighbor and my sister-in-law who invited me over for a chat and a piece of cake (or at least, I think she did. She was speaking Danish, and my brain wasn’t expecting that, being quite preoccupied with trying to remember what one is supposed to say/do when one opens the door.)
However, I declined the delightful invitation, saying I was in the middle of baking bread and couldn’t really leave. They smiled and said that’s alright, but they’ll be right across the hall if I want to come over.
They’re so nice. They’re so sweet and nice and I so want to walk across the hall and knock on the door and talk to them while their sons play wild games, but instead I’m listening to said sons and said wild games through the wall and unsuccessfully holding back tears because I don’t have the balls to go over. Most people don’t even need balls for that. To be fair, though, it doesn’t take much to send me into tears lately. Yesterday I drooled a large blob of toothpaste on my shirt and bawled for fifteen minutes.
I’m trying to convince myself that I’ll go over on my way to pick up Andreas from the train station, even if it’s just to say hi and thanks and bye, and hopefully I’ll be able to.
See? I’m so social and confident and outgoing that I don’t care that my new friend seems completely uninterested in me.
Ah to be four again…