It takes very little nostalgia to make me sick. And it doesn't even have to be my own nostalgia.
Simcha's memories, recent and distant, pop open the lid of the highly pressurized mil-spec case of my own stomped down stay in there because shut up! memories.
And I didn't read every single teentsy weentsy word in her article, either. Because it takes very little nostalgia to make me well up and wish I had spent a few hours of the last twelve years just wallowing in the sad happy wet-eyed hurt of being reminded of "the good times" of bygone days.
That's all -- I'm jumping up and down on the lid now and flipping the heavy duty mil-spec latches closed with a great big stick.
Post a Comment
Thanks for taking the time to leave a comment. Please note that it may take a while to turn the handle of the Crowndot moderation mill and spit out your comment.