Me: ooh lookit that big weirdo plant
Me: I love that guy!
Me: (takes a million pictures)
Me: I love succulents so much.
Me: I think I’m becoming the main character in that novel I wrote.
Spouse: …the wealthy heiress gay teenaged boarding-school student whose loved ones were systematically murdered?
Me: Okay, not JUST like her.
Me: But I’m starting to think flowers are kind of boring, just like she did.
Me: Flowers are all, “Hey, look – I’m PRETTY!”
Me: Like, whatever. I live in L.A. Half the humans here are models. And most of the rest of them used to be.
Me: I’m kind of over pretty.
Me: I love succulents ’cause they don’t settle for being cute.
Me: This weird purple flower has velvety-red leaves! And a big creepy tongue sticking out of the middle of its face!
Me: “Hey – suck my stamen, rosebuds!”
Spouse: We’d better get moving or we’ll be late.
Me: Yeah, okay.
Me: (catches sight of myself in window of building)
Me: I do walk funny, don’t I?
Me: I mean, I knew I did, but I guess it feels different now that everybody’s out and about more.
Me (still looking at reflection as I walk): Dang.
Me: It’s an autism thing. Not, like, officially, but a lot of us do it.
Spouse: Your walk is fine. I like your walk.
Me (experimenting): Here, let’s see. Maybe if I kind of stabilize my core and tilt my hips forward a little…
Me (stepping gingerly): How does it look now? Am I walking normal now?
Spouse: Yes, but you look like you’re trying to walk normal.
Me (still mincing like a neurotypical): This is exhausting.
Spouse: Don’t change your walk.
Me: Why not?
Spouse: I like being able to pick you out in a crowd.
Me: (thinks about it)
Me: (starts walking my own kind of normal again)
Me: If a weird purple succulent flower could walk, I bet it would look like this.