In a distant, or perhaps parallel universe, there is another me who is inexorably cool; I imagine her as being pretty suave – leggy, of course, coiffed in a sharp black bob, possibly perched on a bar stool in red stilettos while sipping a martini.
I think it’s pretty telling that my only reference for cool and sophisticated seems to come from bad Film Noir.
In this universe, there is a me who has been sneaking into book stores to surreptitiously photograph her book on the shelves, suppressing a little squee with every copy she manages to find.
But look. It’s so pretty.
Cool can be next year’s New Years resolution.